


i'll remember you

by katywritesstuff



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Breath of the Wild, Sappy, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Traveling, Traveling Together, idk what else to tag lol, relearning each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katywritesstuff/pseuds/katywritesstuff
Summary: When Zelda thinks about it, it's like they never really knew each other at all.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 74





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> hiii... i haven't posted my writing online since 2017 i think so obviously a Lot has changed since then. i wrote this, sat on it for a while, but thanks to my wonderful amazing best friend i have gotten the courage to post it. she was also the beta reader for this so thank you again bella (go read her stuff her account is Zelinkie on here).
> 
> hope you guys enjoy <3

He’s different from the boy he was one hundred years ago, Zelda realizes. She watches his back as they walk slowly away from the crumbled castle, his long hair swishing with each step he takes, and her thoughts come to a steady pause. 

This Link is different from the one she once knew. He had always been shy, quiet, a little reserved, but with all the time they had spent together before, he had grown comfortable around her. Their friendship was something she treasured. He lit a fire in her heart without her even knowing until it was far too late.

And now they are here, standing several feet apart, both in memories and physical distance. Zelda remembers everything they had been through together, from the littlest things to the grandest memories they shared. Link remembers none of it. 

Zelda doesn’t realize she is frowning until she meets Link’s gaze and sees him looking at her. There is a careful look in his eyes, like he’s trying not to intrude on something. Maybe he knows how lost in thought she is. 

“You alright, Your Highness?” he asks, and that is when it hits Zelda fully. 

The formality of his speech towards her—it makes her heart weigh heavier in her chest. Once upon a time, he had reluctantly dropped the formalities upon Zelda’s request and, eventually, fell easily into the habit of addressing her like a friend. But he has forgotten that. Of course he has. 

When Zelda thinks about it, it’s like they never really knew each other at all. 

And in a way, they didn’t. 

She forces her most confident smile and nods. “I am.”

They press on, and Zelda wonders where their feet will take them.

* * *

Link has a horse, which definitely makes sense. Zelda had once watched over some of his travels while she had been locked away in the clutches of the calamity-infested castle. He has many horses, but he seems to like this one the most. He addresses her as a girl and Zelda takes in the sight of the horse. She has a caramel-brown coat with silky white hair covering her eyes and her tail. There is little braids in her mane, complete with colorful flowers dotting their creases. Zelda manages a smile at this. 

“What’s her name?” Zelda asks as Link fills out paperwork. They are at a stable, the closest one to the castle, Link mentions, and he is taking his horse out of their hands for a time. 

“I call her Epona,” Link says. When he finishes signing his name on the paper, he gives the stable owner a small grin before turning to his horse. He reaches his hand up to pat her nose, and the horse relaxes under his touch. “She seemed to respond to that the best.”

Zelda takes a step closer to Epona. “How did you know?”

”Her eyes looked happier when I called her that,” Link says.

Zelda is taken aback momentarily. After all this time, even after all he had been through, Link is still good with horses. The thought relaxes her mind, if only temporarily. It’s nice to know that he still bears some resemblance to the boy she once knew. 

“You're frowning again, Highness.”

She blinks once, twice, and meets Link’s eyes. They’re still blue, like the small sapphires on her mother’s old necklace. She wonders what happened to that over the past hundred years. 

“I’m not,” Zelda mumbles in a mockingly annoyed tone, accidentally slipping into their old habits of banter, and stops. If Link notices this, he doesn’t comment on it.

“You are,” he replies easily. “But I get why.”

Zelda perks up. Did she hear him right?

Link shakes his head, mounting Epona with one swift jump. He was always good at that. He extends an arm towards Zelda, hand offered out to her. “Come here.”

Hesitance pulls Zelda back, but courage makes her hand clasp in his. He pulls her up in a quick tug. Before she can fall off Epona, Zelda shoots her arms out, wrapping them around his waist, and settles there. 

It’s almost familiar. Zelda can remember holding him like this a thousand times before. They often took horseback rides through the plains of Hyrule during sundown, when the sun made the grass look yellow against its rays. They slowly went from riding on separate horses only for important duties to riding together simply for fun, to spend a moment of their time together. 

Zelda finds herself frowning against his back. His muscles are toned, and his body is warm. She can’t even imagine how many scars line this skin, hidden underneath his black cloak and blue tunic. 

“Don’t frown too much, Highness,” he says, and Epona gallops west, away from the castle and away from the sun.

Warmth beats down against Zelda’s back, but it doesn’t compare to the warmth of Link’s skin.

It’s strange to hold him like this again.

* * *

Riding through Hyrule is an experience, to say the least. Zelda watches it all with wide, glossy eyes. Link doesn’t comment on the tear stains dotting the edges of his black cloak, and Zelda hopes he doesn’t notice. The world moves past her in a blur, waves of rolling green grass swaying like the ocean waves near Lurelin. The sun is setting, and it still makes the world yellow under its gaze. Not much has changed, she thinks for a moment, but then she sees unfamiliar sights. 

The sun may have not changed, but Hyrule did. The grass may still have swayed the same, but the people did not. As they approach the Dueling Peaks, she sees a broken down caravan. Next, she sees a withered and destroyed shed. What makes it all settle fully for her is the sight of a village she once remembered walking through now crushed to pieces. Broken homes line the worn path a thousand hooves and feet have traveled. Flags that had once been hoisted up proudly are ripped and frayed at the edges, their colors grayed. All signs of the life that once flourished here are gone. The world is bleak. Zelda sucks in a breath, holding Link’s waist a little tighter. 

“How long has it been like this?” Zelda asks, and she hates the way her voice wavers. She feels like the girl she was when she had failed her kingdom so long ago.

”I’ve never known it any other way,” Link answers honestly.

Zelda swallows. “I remember this place.”

Link’s body stills in her arms. “You do?”

”Yeah.”

A moment of silence passes between them. Zelda can count every heartbeat in Link’s chest. 

“You could... tell me about them,” Link offers, and when Zelda does not immediately reply, he continues. “What it used to be like, I mean.”

Right. Because he remembers none of it. 

For a small moment, Zelda feels utterly alone. She is one of the few who remembers it all. The people in Hyrule now are not even old enough to remember how it used to be, when villages prospered and life flourished. Destruction like this was merely a myth back then. Now, it is simply reality.

”I would like that, Link,” she says.

He stills under her arms again, and Zelda wonders which line she crossed, but he says nothing of it. She decides to not worry about it too much. 

The mountains of the Dueling Peaks are the same, and Zelda tries to focus on their surviving beauty and not the trampled villages around her. 

* * *

Hateno Village has grown since she last saw it. There are far more houses built, and some look completely different from the usual cream-colored stone ones. They are colorful and made of wood. Did the style of Hyrulean houses change over time? They must have. 

Zelda looks up and sees the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab standing tall on the horizon. The sky is darker now, shades of purple and navy blue covering it, and smoke billows from the laboratory. She smiles when she thinks of Purah—it has been far too long since she last saw that girl. Hopefully she is as old as Impa is, now. 

Epona turns in the direction of the newly-built houses, and Zelda is confused. Does Link own one of these houses?

”Why this way?” she asks instead. 

Link simply points forward. “My house.”

Zelda’s mouth forms the shape of a circle. Epona walks slowly across a bridge overhanging a small stream of water, and then Zelda sees it. 

It’s a quaint little house. It bears no resemblance to the colorful wooden houses nearby—it looks like the old Hateno house models, like it had been built so long ago beside them. She could faintly see lights from the inside of the house, glowing softly against the glass windows. Curtains of cream color protected the inside of the house from outsider view. The outside walls of the house were the same cream color, a chimney spewed puffs of smoke, and the side of the house boasted a small horse shed. 

“This is nice,” Zelda says as Epona stops. Beside the horse shed is an empty space of tall grass, small weeds, and tiny blue flowers. It’s beautiful, and it overlooks all of Hateno and the world below its incline. One of the Sheikah Towers stands proudly in the distance. 

“Took me a while to save up for it, but I’d say it was worth it.” Link sighs deeply; Zelda feels his chest rise with her arms. “You can let go of me now.”

Zelda retracts her arms and, for a moment, feels like that silly crush she had on him before was back. “Right.” She slips off of Epona with ease. It’s hard to remember how to do most things, as being locked away in a stagnant position for a hundred years wears you down a little, but muscle memory brings her back to familiar motions.

She looks out in the distance, admiring the nighttime sky and the way the Sheikah Tower glows soft blue, completely standing out.

Link calls for her, and Zelda turns around, hair falling in front of her eyes.

Epona is now resting peacefully in the horse shed, her body free of her saddle and reigns. She lays against the ground with closed eyes as Link carefully weaves flowers and braids out of her hair. The sight is a soft one. Zelda feels a hand squeeze her heart gently. 

She walks over to the two and kneels down to pet the resting horse. “She really is beautiful.”

Link smiles a little at that, and Zelda considers it a victory of some sort. “She is. I love her.”

His words make her smile in turn. Zelda looks up at the house. “How long did it take you to get this place?”

Absentmindedly, Link shrugs. “Couple weeks. Maybe a month. I’m not really sure.”

”Is there furniture inside?”

”Yes.”

”You paid for those, too?”

”I had a lot of money to spend, Highness.”

Using the formalities again. Zelda couldn’t help the grimace that came to her face. Desperately, she wants to tell him off, let him know that it is okay to address her casually. But Link is not the same boy she had once been close with. They had to get to that level of familiarity again.

Distantly, she wonders when that will be.

* * *

The inside of the house is cozy. The walls are a soft yellow color, and a large light fixture hangs from the center of the ceiling. There is a small kitchen nestled in the corner, complete with pots and pans of all kinds, and a dining table sitting underneath the light fixture. A small flight of stairs leads to an upstairs area. Zelda walks up these stairs and sees a bed, a drawer, and a desk. There are books laying atop the desk; the one on top has a bowl of soup on the cover (perhaps a cookbook?), and a vile of ink sits beside it, a quill dipped within the small bottle. The covers of the bed are a lush green color, and white pillows sit beside it. The drawer is empty save for a single yellow flower nestled in a small vase. It looks healthy. 

Then, Zelda notices the picture hanging above the drawer. It stands out compared to the other small ones on the walls. She steps closer to it.

”It’s done,” Link hollers from downstairs, and Zelda looks away from the picture. 

Her stomach rumbles. When was the last time she had eaten a meal like this? She can’t remember. The smell of the food beckons her forward, and all thoughts of the picture on the wall leave her mind for a time.

She sits down at the dining table, pulling out the chair directly across from Link. A plate of eggs and rice sits in front of her, a glass of water beside it. Zelda looks at Link for a moment. He shrugs. 

“I’m not sure what you like,” he mumbles.

Zelda’s eyes grow heavy. He used to know all her favorite foods and meals. Of course he wouldn’t now. “That’s okay,” Zelda says softly. “I do really like eggs and rice.”

Link manages a small grin at this. “It’s easy and tastes good.”

”Mhm.”

They eat together in relative silence. The only other sound in the house is the rain from the new clouds in the sky. It patters gently against the rooftop. Zelda wishes she could talk to him, but what is there to say? He is a completely different person. There is no familiar dialogue to fall into.

Constantly comparing the Link now to the boy he was before is unfair, though. She chews on the rice and eggs in her mouth irritably. She needed to treat him like she did when he was a stranger. Learn his favorite things, his favorite foods, his mannerisms, what makes him smile. 

But it was hard to relearn things she had once committed to memory as if they were new. 

”What’re you thinking of, Highness?” Link asks her, straying her from her thoughts.

She shakes her head. “Nothing really.”

They finish their dinner silently. Link takes their empty plates and washes them in the washing basin. Zelda doesn’t know what to do with herself. She is alone in a house with a boy she once knew every little thing about, still dressed in the white gown she had worn on the day she failed her kingdom.

When Link finishes, Zelda speaks up.

”Tomorrow,” she starts, “I’d like to get some new clothes.”

Link eyes her up and down, noting her appearance, and nods quickly. “Oh, yes. Of course, Your Highness.”

Zelda resists the urge to grimace. She forces a polite smile. “Thank you.”

Link nods his head curtly, then makes his way upstairs. She listens as he lays out layers of other blankets and pillows onto the floor. She supposes that is where she will be sleeping, but she doesn’t mind at all. She is dying to experience sleep again. It has been so long.

When she reaches the beds upstairs, she is surprised to see Link laying down underneath the covers on the floor. He looks up at her, then points to the actual bed.

”You sleep there,” he says. “And I laid out clothes for you. They might be big, but...”

Zelda fully smiles at this. It is genuine. She takes the clothes and changes downstairs. They are a little loose on her, but it’s nothing she can’t manage. A simple pair of brown pants and a loose blue shirt. She walks up the stairs and settles on the bed. 

“Are you sure?” she asks as Link blows the candles on the chandelier out. Darkness fills the room, and Link returns to his makeshift bed on the floor.

”About what?” he says politely.

Zelda wants to roll her eyes, but she forgoes that idea. “I can sleep on the floor, if you want.”

Link quickly shakes his head. “You deserve the rest, princess.”

Zelda balks at this. Link blows the final candle out, one he had been carrying, and sets it down on the desk overlooking the downstairs floor. He settles back into his bed. Zelda looks down at him.

It has been a hundred years since she last slept in a bed. It has been far longer since she last got to look at Link like this. Soft, unguarded, and safe. Not a trace of blood anywhere. No fresh cuts to adorn his skin.

Tears fill her eyes, and she turns away before he can spot them. She whispers out a faint goodnight. Link does as well.

As she closes her eyes, she thinks of tomorrow. 

For once, it is promised.

* * *

It doesn’t become normal for a while. Zelda wakes up and feels out of place in her own body. They go into Hateno and buy new clothes for her, and they fit her well, but they feel strange on her body. She has worn one dress for a hundred years. She has worn failure on her body for a century. It feels wrong to walk the land she had failed so long ago in clothes that are younger than her. 

She tries her very best to push those thoughts down, but it doesn’t get any easier. Every day feels the same. She wakes up, eats breakfast made by Link, and walks around the village. They don’t leave for a while. There is no reason to go outside the boundaries of this place—for now, at least.

Zelda looks over the cliff that Link’s house sits on. The blue glow of the Sheikah Tower looks back at her. The wind rustles her hair gently, hair that she has tied into a loose ponytail, and it tickles her cheek. It is small, but it grounds her for a moment. This is real. The nightmare she had lived through for a century is over. She can live as she is supposed to.

Something makes her turn her head backwards. She isn’t sure what, but it lands her eyes on the laboratory on the hill.

Maybe a visit to Purah could quell her mind.

* * *

Purah is... not what she had been expecting at all. Zelda had seen Impa as she is now. She watched Link’s adventure often, merely to check in on it all. But she had never gotten the chance to see Purah.

She has the appearance of a child.

Zelda is immediately engulfed into a small hug by the tiny woman—girl? It’s hard to say what Purah is at this point.

”Check it, Princess Zelda!” Purah exclaims, her voice a little higher than she remembers it being. “It’s been, what, a hundred years?”

”Feels like it’s been more than that,” Zelda says earnestly.

Purah laughs and pulls her inside the laboratory. It’s a little warmer in here compared to outside. Hateno was never a warm place. It resided beside a cold, cold mountain range. Zelda has always preferred this cool weather. 

“I saw it when it happened,” Purah says, hopping onto a stool. It makes their heights almost meet, but Zelda still has a few inches on her. “I was watching the castle when Link was there. There was so much happening—a huge beast made of malice appeared! But then I saw golden light and I knew it was you, princess.”

Zelda smiles. She remembers the victorious feeling as she sealed away Calamity Ganon. It was a feeling worth all the years she had spent containing it. 

“I feel like, when the Calamity was sealed, everyone across Hyrule just... knew,” Purah continues. A small smile dances across her face. “Something lifted off of our shoulders. Especially me and Impa and Robbie. I’ve never felt more peaceful.”

This makes Zelda happy. “It’s nice to live in a world without it, isn’t it?”

Purah grins. “Most definitely!”

From there, they fall back into normalcy, because Purah is one of the few people left who remembers the world like Zelda does. Purah shows her all the advancements she has made on the Sheikah technology, especially regarding the Sheikah Slate (which sits comfortably on Link’s hip at all times). Purah had spent most of her time recently configuring the slate, so not much else has changed, but it is still a nice sight to see that Sheikah technology still prospers. 

“Does Robbie still work on Sheikah technology?” Zelda asks curiously as she is about to leave the laboratory. Lunchtime is approaching and she is starving for something. 

Purah nods eagerly. “Yep! He operates the lab in Akkala now. You should pay him a visit sometime.”

Akkala. Zelda has not heard that name in a long, long time. She wonders how it is holding up now. Last she heard of it, Guardians had utterly destroyed the citadel. What does it look like now, a hundred years after the fact? Dust has had time to settle, and broken stone now has earth growing over it, most likely. 

“If Link and I go there, I hope to see him,” Zelda says.

Purah gasps a little, and Zelda has to look down completely to face her. “How are you and Link doing?”

”...What do you mean?”

”I mean—“ Purah falters a little— “For me, talking to him again after so long was weird, but I never really knew him that well in the first place.”

There is a pause. Zelda can feel the tension in the air, thick enough to slice with a knife. 

“I can’t imagine what it feels like for you.”

Zelda hopes Purah never has to. Not truly knowing someone you once loved is sinking. Zelda despises it. 

“I’m working through it,” Zelda says. She composes herself. “We are working through it,” she emphasizes. 

“I’m sure you two will be alright,” Purah says easily. She guides Zelda out the door. “You always come back to each other, right?”

Zelda doesn’t know what to say to that. “I... I suppose.”

Purah shows off her signature hand sign. “Check it!” She brushes it all off like it’s nothing. “Hope to see you soon, princess!”

”And you as well, Purah.”

Purah closes the door, and the world feels massive around Zelda. 

She makes a slow descent down the hill, finding herself back at Link’s house for lunch.

Though when she arrives, he’s nowhere to be seen. Curious, Zelda looks around the place, briefly checking upstairs to see if he’s hiding somewhere up there. 

He isn’t. 

She purses her lips and walks back downstairs. The house is quiet and barren, somehow a little colder, too. It feels strange to stand alone in such a place. These walls are not her own. She feels like a stranger in his house. 

Zelda moves to the kitchen to take her mind elsewhere. She would rather have it sitting in between loaves of bread and crisp apples than that empty loneliness.

So, she cooks. The first thing she imagines cooking is a recipe she made often for Link before—vegetable and meat soup. It had once been his favorite. Perhaps that fact persisted this century.

Zelda washes vegetables in the washing basin. She slices the meat into chunks, then cooks them over a pan and a small stoked fire. She makes the broth, stirs it all together, lets it simmer over the same fire. 

And then the door opens. Her head sharply turns to see Link walking inside, a large wicker basket in hand. She wants to smile, but it’s hard. Smiles don’t come easily around him anymore. 

“What were you doing?” she asks. The house smells of meat and vegetables. She looks at the half-sliced bread out of the corner of her eye, a knife sitting beside it. 

“Had to get some extra things,” he says easily. Link sets the wicker basket down on the dining table. It’s filled to the brim with an assortment of foods. There’s bananas and grapes poking out from the wooden lid that covers it. “What're you doing, Highness?”

Zelda flushes. She had not even finished the stew. She wanted to surprise him. “Uh, I made some lunch.”

Link walks closer to her, standing at a respectful distance. He squints his eyes at the stew cooking in the pot. “What is it?”

“Meat and vegetable stew,” she answers. It feels like there’s cobwebs in her throat. She can barely speak. “Your favorite, right?”

There is a long moment before Link responds. She reminds herself that this is normal—he is silent most times. But the terrible feeling that edges her heart makes her want to be swallowed up by the wooden floors beneath her. 

He gently shakes his head. “No… I mean, it’s alright.”

That terrible feeling grows. It’s chipping away at whatever false hope she had subconsciously been building away at. Her hope crumbles utterly, and she can only stare back at him, mouth slightly agape. 

“I’m sorry,” is all she can manage to sputter out. It’s a useless apology. 

“You didn’t know,” Link says. 

Zelda can’t handle it anymore. Her heart feels close to escaping her throat. “It seems I don’t know a lot.”

Link freezes at this. His eyes briefly flit back to the pot of stew. 

“You—you can eat it if you want,” she mumbles, tossing the spoon ladle back into the pot. “I’m not hungry, anyway.” She begins to walk to the door. Fresh air. That’s what she needs. 

Zelda opens the door. The air is cooler now with the steadily fading sunlight. She’s one foot out the door before Link calls out to her. 

“Your Highness, wait,” he says. 

Begrudgingly, Zelda faces him. She can’t read his face. What is he feeling?

“Was that… did that used to be my favorite food?” Link asks, soft. 

She almost doesn’t want to answer him. Almost. Her face falls into a grim expression. “Yes.”

Link looks down. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Stop it. Don’t be,” Zelda says, and then she leaves. 

The wild is calm to her as she sits amidst it. The tree's leaves sway gently above her head, the grass tickles her skin, and droplets of dew that remain from the shade soak into her clothes.

The wild is calm. Her heart is anything but.

* * *

”Akkala is nice,” Link says as they ride through Hyrule. 

Epona gallops briskly, running through forests and bushes and stepping over twigs. Zelda holds on tightly to Link.

”Is that where we’re going?” she questions. 

Link hums in acknowledgement. “No. It’s too far.”

Zelda deflates a little. Link seems to recognize this.

“But we can go there soon,” he promises. She can hear the surety in his voice. He often spoke like that to her. “The trees are all red, all the time. It’s beautiful.”

”It is,” Zelda says. 

A thought plants itself in her head. 

“Hey, Link,” she says softly into the cloth of his tunic. He turns his head gently to let her know she has his attention. 

“Let’s explore Hyrule together.”

Link pauses. “I’ve already explored it.”

Zelda smiles against his back. “Alone, you did.”

There is another moment of silence. “I guess you’re right.”

”If you don’t mind,” Zelda presses on, “I would like to see it all with you.” She has already traveled Hyrule with him, but he had been a different boy back then. It will be far different now.

Link has always been a quiet boy. That much is even more so evident right now. It takes him a moment to find the words. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” he answers, and there is honesty in his voice. 

Zelda’s smile softens.

* * *

”You know,” Zelda begins, firelight crackling in front of her face, “I have never camped outside like this before.”

Link looks surprised. He rolls the spit that dangles above the crisp fire. Flames tickle the bottom of the chicken breast cooking above it. “Not once?”

”No.” Zelda huddles closer to the fire. “Whenever we traveled, we always managed to find a place to stay. Or we just returned to the castle. I imagine it’s harder to find inns, now.”

”...We?”

Zelda stops at this. She hadn’t even been thinking of her words. She got so lost in speaking with him casually that she forgot to realize she couldn’t speak with him like that—at least for now. She blushes. “You and I.”

”You mean—“ Link pauses. “Like... before?”

Zelda swallows. The fire seems cold compared to the heat on her cheeks. “Yes.”

”Oh.” 

Zelda buries her face in her arms and legs. She hasn’t felt embarrassed in so long. She did not miss the feeling. Grass rustles, and she keens her ears to listen to the sound of Link standing up. He walks for a moment, but not too far from where the fire is set up. 

Trying to will away her embarrassment, her shame, she looks up and watches Link’s back. He moves like he did before. In a way, not much has changed, even though it seems like everything has. 

She stares a little longer than she should, only looking away when he turns around.

He is holding a few apples, now, and two sticks. He offers one to Zelda. “We can bake apples.”

”I love baked apples,” Zelda says. She gleefully takes the stick and pokes a hole in the apple with it. “Baked apples and chicken... is that really a good combo?”

”I think so,” Link answers honestly. She swears there is a small smile on his lips. "I've had it a lot."

Zelda holds her apple close to the flames. “But it’s not your favorite meal, is it.”

”Not even close.” Link sticks out his tongue in mock disgust to further prove this. It gets a small laugh out of Zelda. 

A question she had been wanting to ask for forever now finally feels appropriate to ask. She almost smiles as she asks it. “What is your favorite food, then?”

“Rice bowls,” he says quickly. Zelda laughs—that part of him certainly hadn’t changed. He still loves food, even if his favorite is different now.

“I like crepes,” Zelda says, “especially when they have sugar and honey on them. They’re so sweet.”

Link nods slowly. “Crepes are good.”

The conversation dies from there. Zelda feels half-bitter, but she supposes it’s partly her fault. She couldn’t think of anything better to talk about. 

Link cuts the chicken in half and gives Zelda a decent helping of it, complete with the apple she had baked over the fire. The combination is a strange one, but she finds herself enjoying it more than she originally thought. 

The night passes on quickly. Zelda is thankful for it. 

* * *

They arrive in Kakariko Village. Zelda is awed at how much it has changed over the century she had been away from it. There are new buildings in various spots, new shops, new homes. Children roam the paths with smiles on their faces and laughter in their throats. Others tend to their daily tasks, and it is peaceful. She remembers it being this peaceful. At least Kakariko was spared the full wrath of the Calamity. 

They stop before the inn and Link hastily pays for a room they can share for the night. 

“For you and your lover?” teases the woman behind the counter. 

Zelda is surprised to see a red color flush Link’s cheeks. It had been a while since she last saw that. She missed that sight, frankly.

”No,” he says. “Um—“

”I’m joking,” the woman says with a laugh in her voice, and Link reluctantly hands her the rupees.

They are led to their room, and they step inside of it together. Zelda closes the door behind them, then drops her satchel beside her feet, and flops onto the nearest bed. Thankfully, there are two.

”This is cozy,” she says into the mounds of blankets. She swears she hears something like a laugh leave Link’s throat. 

“I like this inn,” he says. 

“You know,” Zelda mumbles as she flips her body over, “this inn didn’t used to be here.”

“It didn’t?”

”Nope. I guess it was built sometime after the Calamity.”

“Probably.” Link looks up at the ceiling of their room. “It always seemed old to me.”

”It was built shortly after, then,” Zelda says. A deep sigh escapes her lips. “Shall we see Impa tomorrow?”

Link smiles barely—it is small, but it is there. “I figured you’d want to see her again. That’s why we’re here.”

A wave of gratitude washes over Zelda. It is a warm balm against her skin. She smiles softly and unguardedly at him. “Thank you, Link.”

”You're welcome, Your Highness.”

Zelda wasn’t expecting to hear her name fall from his lips. 

She has come to accept it.

* * *

Impa is old and clinging onto the last of her life, but she is still here. Zelda could not be more thankful for this familiar face. The moment they step into Impa’s home, she breaks out into a smile and rushes towards the old woman, falling to her knees. Zelda hugs her gently, and Impa laughs heartily into her hair. 

“It has been quite some time, Zelda,” Impa mutters, and Zelda pulls away. There are tears in both of their eyes. The sight of it makes a joyful laugh escape her throat. 

“I’ve missed you,” Zelda says. “How has it been all this time?”

”Quite the experience,” Impa replies. It is strange to see her former friend this old—Zelda wishes she had gotten the chance to grow into age alongside her. The thought dampens her mood slightly. “If I told you all of it, we’d be here all day.”

”I bet.” Zelda wipes her nose and looks to her side. She sees a young girl that looks exactly like Impa used to, and she is blushing madly at something behind Zelda. She then realizes it’s Link she’s blushing at.

“Who is this?” Zelda asks, and Impa smiles. 

“My granddaughter,” Impa says. “Her name is Paya.”

At the mention of her name, Paya gasps, hands immediately covering her lower face. Her face burns red behind her fingers. “Y-You must be the princess! Grandma has spoke of you a lot.”

Zelda smiles gently at the girl. “I am. It’s nice to meet you, Paya.”

Paya nods slowly. “It’s nice to meet you too... I never thought I would.”

Impa offers tea, and the three in the room easily comply with such an offer. Paya makes the tea—simple green tea—and they all sit down at a low table, four cushions surrounding it. 

Impa tells stories. She tells Zelda of how the world has changed around her, how Kakariko has changed, how Hyrule’s culture had shifted over the years. It’s fascinating to hear it all from the perspective of a woman who saw it all in real time. Impa held so much knowledge, far more than Zelda or Link could ever hope to know. They only knew of the times they spent their days in. Impa knew of all, for she had lived through many.

When they leave, the sky is orange and yellow, and they retreat to the inn. Link cooks food in one of the pots outside and brings it into their room, where they eat on the small, low table provided to them. He made vegetable rice balls, and they taste divine. 

“I assume you learned to cook after all this time,” Zelda says. 

Link nods. “It just came naturally to me. I feel like I’ve always liked it.”

”You have. You used to cook for me a lot.”

And it is there that Zelda knows she has crossed a line, something they hadn’t dared to tread over so early. She regrets it immediately. Zelda suddenly feels full.

”I’ll see you in the morning,” she says, bidding him a good night. She stands up and moves to her bed, covering herself in heaps of blankets. 

As Link blows the final candle in the room out, darkness covers her eyes, and she exhales softly into the blankets. 

She wishes Link would say something, anything to her, but he remains silent. Naturally so.

They fall asleep.

* * *

They return to Hateno shortly after. Zelda begins to think that Link has forgotten his promise to travel Hyrule with her. An ebb of worry laps venomously in her stomach.

Nighttime falls, as it always does, and Zelda finds herself gazing up at the sky. She sits in the small field beside Link’s house, tall grass and tiny blue flowers tickling her skin. But she doesn’t mind at all. She has come to find that she enjoys the wild more than anything. 

“Your Highness.”

His voice breaks her concentration. Zelda whips her head around to see Link standing not too far from her, a red tunic covering his body, his hair pulled into a low ponytail. He still wears small blue hoops in his ears, she realizes. They have always suited him.

”Mind if I sit with you?” he asks. 

Zelda feels her heart skip a beat, swallowing her nerves. “Not at all.”

She faces the sky again as he sits down beside her. 

“I want to talk,” he says. 

“Okay.”

”I remember...” Link purses his lips. Zelda remembers this look—he is deep in thought, choosing his words carefully. “Those pictures in the Sheikah Slate. I saw the memories. I... remember those moments."

Zelda’s breath hitches in her throat. 

“But I remember nothing else,” he continues, not looking at her. “I don’t remember you like you remember me. I don’t know what my life was like. I don’t remember anything.”

”Link...”

”And I’m sorry.”

Zelda balks at this. He had always been too humble. “Don’t say that,” she says. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

Then, she notices the tears in his eyes. The moon reflects almost perfectly in them. 

“I want to remember you,” he mumbles, “but I can’t. I can’t.”

Zelda doesn’t know what to say. There is a thin thread between them right now. She doesn’t want to come too close and cut it. “Link—“

”I can’t remember you. I don’t even know who I used to be.” Link is breathing heavier now, his breaths shorter. He looks to Zelda; their eyes meet, just like they used to, once upon a time. A time long gone. “Did I have a family?”

Zelda sucks in a breath and it stays in her throat for a long while. She remembers that much. “You did.”

Link’s face pales, but then he relaxes, if only slightly. He spares her a reserved glance. “...What they were like?” The hesitation in his voice makes Zelda feel some indescribable emotion. She wants to rid him of all this sadness and fear that he has always had to burden. He does not deserve it. Not for all he did.

”I never met them,” she answers honestly, her voice strained. 

His family is gone, now. There is no one left who harbors any memories of them. To the world, they are forgotten, as if they never existed. 

Zelda notices the glimmer of tears in his eyes, the small droplets that rush down his cheeks. He is crying. He is vulnerable, and she feels terrible. In a way, she is the reason for all of this. Her failure led to this wasted century, this future he had to awaken to, completely unaware of everything, even himself. 

She could not begin to imagine how empty that feeling is, to know that you are not who you used to be, to never have hope of that knowing.

In such a regard, they are the same. Zelda is no longer the hopeful and passionate princess she was one hundred years ago. She is a broken vessel of scars and memories she will never get back. Link is much the same—a once proud soldier who never turned away from a fight, a boy who had a family and friends, now reduced to a boy who didn’t know his own self, a boy who had nothing.

Zelda hides her tears by swiping her thumb underneath her eyelids. The moon gazes kindly down at them, despite the tears in their eyes, and its gaze does not waver.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Link says, voice muffled with his sadness. He makes a move to stand up. “I won’t bother you further.”

Zelda instinctively reaches out to grasp the hem of his tunic. He stops, face turning back to look at her face, one she knows is full of desperation.

”Stay with me a while,” she offers, voice small.

Link stares at her, gaze unmoving, and she feels even smaller against it.

”If you’d like,” she mumbles.

It takes another heartbeat, but it is what gets Link to move. He gently removes her hand from his tunic and sits down beside her, a little closer than last time. The sky is starting to get darker. Zelda wishes she could tell time by the sky. She had always relied on clocks her whole life. She wonders what time it is right now.

Not that it matters.

Time is ever flowing. 

“Link,” Zelda speaks up, voice soft and reserved only for his ears. He perks up a little at her tone.

“Hm?”

”Do you remember when I asked you to explore Hyrule with me?” she asks, and he nods. “Let’s do that.”

”I said I would,” he replies gently. His voice is still small from everything he said earlier.

Zelda looks at him out of the corner of her eye. “I mean it, though. I want to see Hyrule with you again. I want to make new memories.”

Link hesitates for a moment. Zelda faces him fully, only to meet his eyes completely. Still so blue, and there is even a hint of green laced within there, emeralds hiding deep within sapphires. 

“I would like that,” he mumbles, and a cricket nearby scuttles softly. “When do you want to go?”

Zelda already knows her answer.

”Tomorrow at sunrise.”

She hopes it is not too much of a request. But his nod gives her only acceptance.

”Sunrise it is, then.”

* * *

They leave at sunrise, as promised the night before. Link wakes up earlier than Zelda, and orange sunlight filtered through the cream curtains that cover the window beside the bed. She blinks her eyes open, squinting them against the blinding light, and then rubs her knuckles into them to drive the bleariness away. When she next opens her eyes, the world is clearer. She stares up at the ceiling, the house is warm, and the smell of something sweet wafts upstairs. For a moment, this feels like this could be something like forever.

No, that's too heavy of a thought.

She stands up from the bed, swinging her legs over it, and moves to the dresser. That photo she had never bothered to look at before still rests above it. Part of her is too scared to look up and stare at it too longingly. She doesn’t even know what it is. What harm could a picture have?

Instead, she grabs her clothes, though, the ones she bought a few weeks ago that were more suited for traveling. They almost resembled the outfit she used to wear through travels a hundred years ago, but not quite. They didn’t make clothing like that anymore, especially not for those separate from royalty. If she were to ever wear those clothes again, she supposes she would have to sew them herself. The task is daunting, but it is tempting.

Zelda walks downstairs and sees two plates on the table. Link is sitting down in his usual chair, back blocking her view of the food on their plates. She walks forward and sits down at the chair she has claimed as hers unannounced.

It’s a crepe, with honey drizzled over it and sugar scattered atop it. Zelda hesitantly brings her gaze up to meet Link’s. He is looking right at her. He seems to do that a lot more lately.

”That’s your favorite food,” he says carefully, then swallows a bite. “Right?”

Zelda doesn’t mind when she tears up. For once, she lets someone see her cry, because these tears are nothing of sadness or pity. They are of happiness.

”Thank you,” she mumbles, wiping a thumb across her cheeks to rid the tears. 

They eat in silence once more, but it is definitely not as suffocating as it usually was.

From there, they leave the house, equipment packed and weapons prepared. Hyrule was rid of the Calamity and all its monsters, but that didn’t mean dangers still did not lurk within the land. They had to be on their guard at every moment, just in case. 

Traveling with Link is not as she remembers it exactly, because he is different in many regards. But at the same time, there is a familiarity to it, something she falls into easily. They ride through fields of grass on Epona’s back, Zelda’s arms encircled around Link’s waist, and the sky changes colors with each hour that passes. Clouds gather in some areas, making the climate cooler, and in others, clouds move quickly and part ways for the sun to shine more. It is warmer in those places, heat glaring against Zelda’s back. It’s nothing she can’t handle.

The first night, they stop at a horse stable near the Dueling Peaks. Zelda remembers seeing this one as they first traveled to Hateno together, remembers the sinking feeling in her gut throughout that whole ride. Her kingdom was vastly different from how she remembered it. But months had passed since then, and she was getting used to its new sights, its new people, its destroyed artifacts.

Link had once had to adjust to this, too, although in a different way. Zelda supposes she can do the same without fault.

The second night, they find themselves camping outside again, this time near a river. Link catches fish by using the Sheikah Slate’s remote bomb feature to easily reel in a group of fish for food. Zelda laughs when the first bomb explodes and Link turns to face her with a wild expression on his face. What other strange things did Link figure out while venturing in the wild on his own? 

She can only imagine.

They eat their fish in silence, comfortable again this time, and Zelda finds herself not minding it. Link had always been quiet. She had once granted him time to adjust to her presence before, allow him to open up. It would not hurt to do it again.

The silence doesn’t last forever, though. As their eyes are closed and the river runs softly beside them, Zelda hears the faint sound of sobs. She doesn’t bother to open her eyes. There is no one else near her. 

But she doesn’t know how to comfort him. So she remains silent, and his terrible sobs plummet her heart.

Why does he cry? she wonders.

On the third night, they stop at another horse stable in a humid forest. Sweat slicks across Zelda’s face in every crease of it, and she wipes her bare hand across her forehead to rid her skin of it temporarily. The Faron region of Hyrule had never been her favorite, but only because of its sticky and humid weather. Otherwise, she enjoys Faron. It is a beautiful province of lush green forests, tropical trees, and ancient monuments that, even a hundred years ago, had always been shrouded in mystery.

As they sleep that night, Zelda tastes the faint berries in her mouth from the fruit platter she had eaten earlier for dinner, and turns over to face the bed Link is sleeping in. He sleeps on his back, apparently, and only slightly shifts to the side every few minutes.

She feels weird for watching him sleep, but her eyes won’t move. She does this often. It’s nice to see him rest when most of her freshest memories of him are of blood and battered skin. 

Nightmares are common. They return in flashes of the past, of the final day she had spent with Link and the Champions a hundred years ago, all of the terror that had reigned on that day. She grows used to it. It’s something she knows she’ll never forget. 

On the fourth night, they are in Lurelin Village, and Zelda is fascinated with every single part of it. It’s changed a lot since she last saw it, with new buildings and shops set up in patches of land that had once been empty. Tall, tropical trees grow abundantly, great mountains surround the village like two protective hands, and on the horizon is the sea, beautiful and large and blue. 

Zelda runs to the shore after they deposit their belongings in an inn room. She slips off her shoes and dashes into the ocean, bubbly sea foam and clear water touching her bare skin. She hasn’t felt the ocean’s water in so long. She laughs, a smile overtaking her face, and walks further into the water.

She looks over her shoulder at Link, who is watching her with a strange expression. It makes her heart stop for a moment, because the expression is nothing of confusion or pity. She is used to looks like that—it was all she ever saw back then, back when she had struggled to awaken her powers. No, this is different, but she can’t put a word to it. It’s something he has looked at her with before, back when the world was a little more normal and they were fine. Their gazes lock for a passing moment, and then Link is kicking his boots off, leaving them in the white sand beside Zelda’s own boots. He runs after Zelda, and that strange expression is mostly gone now, replaced entirely by a small smile.

Zelda doesn’t realize what’s happening until he starts charging closer to her. She screams and barely dodges his incoming attack, steadying her feet on the slippery sand below her. 

“You almost made me fall!” she exclaims exasperatedly.

Link shrugs nonchalantly. “That was the point.”

Fondness fills her heart, and Zelda can’t help but laugh again. She laughs loudly, something she has never been granted the freedom to do in a while, pressing her palms against her knees to keep herself upright.

Link is laughing, too, and it’s a wonderful sound. Zelda remembers that sound. It’s one she has always revered and cherished. To hear it again is an enchanting experience of itself. She half-wants to run over to him and hug him. But she can’t allow herself that.

They aren’t like they used to be.

But perhaps they can be something different.

Link kicks water at her, and Zelda shrieks at the cold droplets hitting her skin, retaliating his attack with a swift kick of her foot against the shallow waves. Water splashes against his tunic, and Link lets out a small giggle. 

“We don’t wanna ruin our clothes,” he says offhandedly, as if that is going to stop him.

”Then let’s get better clothes for the ocean,” Zelda offers.

Link smiles. “There’s a clothes shop here, I think. Lurelin has nice clothes.”

In return, Zelda gives him a grin. 

They buy better clothes the next day, and Lurelin is even more fun after that. For once, neither of them have great destinies or responsibilities resting on their shoulders. For once, they can be Zelda and Link rather than the princess and her knight. They can just be, as they kick and splash water onto each other, unearth pretty seashells from the squishy sand, and drink coconut milk from coconut cups. 

Zelda looks to Link one evening, tiki torches around him illuminating his features in orange light, and wonders what shifted between them. Maybe they both realized that they could be something more than they used to be. She isn’t sure. She never asks.

Strangely enough, Link is the one who begins to ask questions more. As they sit on the edge of the dock together, the sky purple and orange, the last remaining bit of sunlight peeking out from behind the line of the ocean’s horizon, he speaks.

”Tell me about Lurelin,” he says.

Zelda furrows her brows slightly. “What do you mean?”

He glances at her briefly, then settles his eyes back to the sunset. “What it used to be like—tell me about that.”

”Oh.” Zelda faces the sunset again, too, and tries to remember the old Lurelin. “Not much has changed, actually. Sure, there’s new buildings and houses and stuff, but it isn’t super different. The people here look the same. They all have the same accent—isn’t it so pretty?”

”It is.”

”And the food is the same.” Zelda smiles as a memory comes back to her. “I remember when I came here once, just for a visit, and they offered me so many of their homemade recipes. They were divine, and they make them the same now.” She shrugs. “So... yeah. Lurelin hasn’t changed too much.”

”Did I ever come here?” Link asks her, a careful tone in his question.

Zelda sighs gently. “Once, I think. It was when we both came here. I don’t know if you came here before that.”

”What was that day like?” he continues. When she doesn’t answer for a moment, he turns to face her halfway. “Do you remember?”

A small, breathy laugh leaves her throat. “I don’t remember it clearly, but... we played on the beach. I showed you the foods. We danced to music. There wasn’t any duties for us here—we just had fun.”

Link’s lips turn upward into something soft. “So it’s the same as now.”

The realization seeps into Zelda slowly, and then it strikes her.

These past few days were not so different from days they spent together a hundred years ago. Something clenches her heart, and she has to look away from that soft look of his before she starts crying.

”I suppose so.”

They watch the sunset together, silence between them, and Zelda only then realizes how much she had missed ocean sunsets.

* * *

Hyrule is massive, and Zelda finds herself unsure of where to go next. They have all the time in the world, an expanse of land to explore. She’s overwhelmed, despite it all.

The map below her fingers stares back at her widely, eating her whole, and she doesn’t know what to do. The air of Lurelin is a warm balm against her skin. Part of her doesn’t want to leave this place, its seafoam shores and salty air. But life moves on. Zelda wants to move on.

She finds Link in a grassy area by the shore, tall grass tickling his cheek. For a moment, she finds no reason to move from where she stands. A thought settles into her—he is here. Link is alive, and so is she. There is so much distance between them, even now, but they are alive.

A bitter feeling encases her heart, but she’s thankful they get to be like this. Two teenagers, played like fools in fate’s twisted hands, standing on the shore, the rest of the world behind their shoulders, the waves at their fronts. 

“Good morning,” she says to Link when she gets closer. The map in her hands stays close to her chest. “I was thinking we should leave.”

”Already?” Link ponders. 

“You said we’d explore Hyrule,” Zelda continues. “We have a lot more to see.”

Link stays quiet at this, staring only at the sea and its waves as Zelda sits down beside him. She makes sure to keep the distance between them. That is another boundary she isn’t sure she’s ready to cross. 

“Then where to?” he mumbles, still not looking at her. A tiny crevice of her heart wishes those blues would look her way.

”I chose Lurelin because I remember it being one of my favorite places,” Zelda says. She holds the map out to him and he looks at it. “I want you to choose now.”

Link takes the map from her with ginger fingers.

She smiles, small and gentle. “What’s your favorite place?”

She remembers what it used to be. She asked once, and he told her with a small smile on his face that Mabe Village was his favorite place in Hyrule. It made sense back then—it was where he grew up, after all. He said he loved the way the houses looked when snow dusted their roofs, he loved the people who lived there, the food they made, the celebrations they held. Zelda visited Mabe Village twice. Once before she met Link, and once after. She liked the place as well.

So, what is his favorite place now?

She wants to know. She knew everything about him before, and she will learn everything about him as he is now.

His lips quirk up a little, and he points to a spot. It’s somewhere Zelda has never been before, somewhere she had never once bothered to go to. 

“Satori Mountain?” she asks, staring at his nail as he points to its name.

”Yep,” he says. “Have you ever been there?”

Zelda shakes her head. “Never.”

That smile on his face becomes something softer. “I think you’ll like it a lot.”

She has to look away when he smiles at her like that. It reminds her far too much of how he used to look at her. The thought saddens her, but it lights a lick of flame into her heart.

Zelda doesn’t think of it further.

* * *

Satori Mountain is far, far away from Lurelin Village. It takes them days to get to where they need to be, and they waste countless rupees on food and nights spent in the horse stable inns. Zelda grows concerned for his rupee pouch but bites back any comments she has. 

The base of the mountain is nothing spectacular. It looks like an ordinary mountain in Central Hyrule. Zelda tended to enjoy the other parts of Hyrule more—its central area was boring in comparison. 

But, she steadies herself as Epona slowly walks along its base, keeps her eyes on the mountain. This has to be Link’s favorite place for a reason.

The mountain is bigger than it looks, but maybe that’s because Epona is taking slow, tentative steps up its worn-in paths. They wind across the steeps and curves of the mountain, connecting effortlessly. Hundreds of travelers before them pave the way for these paths. How many people have climbed this mountain in the past hundred years? How many times has Link climbed it?

She puts her thoughts to rest when she sees a strange sight. Zelda lifts her head away from where it was on Link’s back and watched a flurry of black crows hover over withering trees. She looks closer at the patch of darkness. It looks like a small haven of death.

”What’s that?” she asks, and Link looks directly at what she was questioning. Perhaps he knows why.

”I’m not really sure,” he answers, and Zelda deflates at this. She had been hoping for a clarifying answer. “It’s just... there.”

”That’s not the reason you like this place, right?” Zelda leans her head against his back again. He’s warm. Always warm. 

Link shakes his head, a laugh rising out of him. This surprises Zelda a little. She really does like that sound. 

“Not at all. You’ll see it. We’re almost there.”

Epona rounds a corner, shielding Zelda’s view of the strangely dark crevice of the mountain, and she sighs into his skin. “Okay.”

They ride a little farther, rounding more corners and climbing higher. At some point, Zelda moves her head away from Link’s back and directs her eyes to the sky. It’s starting to get dark—the sky is an illustrious purple color, hints of orange and blue blotted within it. Stars are beginning to show, and the moon’s faint outline watches tentatively, high above the clouds. 

Zelda looks forward and her mouth falls open at the sight before her. Epona stops in her pace, Link tugging at her reigns gently, and the boy has a smile in his voice as he talks. 

“Here it is.” 

Zelda’s eyes grow wide. She is speechless. 

“Zelda?”

She looks at the water, then looks back to Link. “Let’s get off.”

He nods and dismounts Epona, holding a hand out for Zelda to take. She takes it eagerly, too focused on the beauty of the world to care about how sloppily she falls off the horse, or how she collides into Link’s chest. He cracks a weird smile at her, but Zelda pushes away from him quickly, running out to the area.

It’s beautiful, more than any of Zelda’s words could ever describe. There is a tall, great tree of rich dark oak and soft pink petals growing abundantly from its branches. There is a large pond beside the tree, crystal clear and reflecting the stars and the moonlight perfectly, gentle pink petals hovering above its glassy surface. Small flowers of many colors grow beside rocks, the grass is lush and green, and Silent Princesses flourish here. 

The sky seems bigger here. Actually, scratch that—the entire world seems larger here. The sky expands before her like a great messy canvas of paints and brush strokes. The world around her watches calmly as she steps carefully into the shallow crystal water. The world feels massive, and Zelda feels small, but she finds herself not minding it. It’s beautiful. She loves it. 

She feels a presence behind her, one that is warm and smells of pine trees. Zelda looks to her side and sees Link, eyes directed up at the sky, an unguarded smile on his face. She wants to capture this moment forever. It’s everything. 

“I can see why this is your favorite place,” she says stupidly, laughing at the way her voice shakes. She’s stunned and wants to say something better, but it’s all she can muster. 

“When I found this place, I was shocked,” Link says, walking closer to the pink tree. Zelda follows behind him. “I thought a lot of places in Hyrule were beautiful. But once I stumbled across this place, I knew I could call it my favorite. I mean, just look at it.”

Zelda sits down beside him against the tree’s bark. They sit closer together this time compared to Lurelin. It’s not much, but it is something. “You’ve been everywhere, and this is your favorite.”

”I still think lots of other places are pretty,” he says, “but this one is definitely the best. At least, I think so.”

Something strange digs into Zelda’s heart. She places a hand over the skin and bone that guards it. 

Link, who woke up not knowing who he was or where he was, walked these grounds. He saw everything he had once walked before but permanently forgot. In the midst of it all, he found a new place to call his favorite. 

Zelda looks at him once more, and he is looking at the sky, but she doesn’t mind as much this time. 

His hair curls slightly where droplets of water had once been, but most of it is tied into a small ponytail. His cheeks are flushed red from the colder weather up here. 

Her heart skips a beat. 

Zelda looks back at the lake, a Silent Princess brushes against her thigh with the light breeze, and a soft pink petal sways slowly down into the crystalline water. 

* * *

The stable is warm and cozy by Rito Village. Snow begins to fall gently to the ground, and Zelda shivers against the bitter gusts of wind. She rushes inside the stable as soon as Link helps her off Epona, huddling her hands together and blowing warm breath into them. It doesn’t alleviate the cold much, but it’s better than the numbness she felt before. 

Moments pass, and Link walks up beside her. “You need warmer clothes if we’re going to Hebra.”

Zelda huffs. “I know. But there’s no warmer clothes here.”

Link looks in the direction that Rito Village rests. “Rito Village has clothes.”

”Warm clothes?”

”Of course. It’s a cold region. They sell warmer clothes for Hylians.”

”How... how kind.” Zelda shivers again, teeth clamoring.

She hears Link sigh, a shuffle of movements sounding from where he stands. Then, there is a warm cloth being draped over her. It’s thin and smells like him. Zelda swallows as she looks at Link.

He shrugs, but she swears there is a tinge of red on the tips of his ears. “It’s not a lot, but it’s something, right?”

Zelda’s mouth feels dry as she talks, like sticky honey is stuck on the roof of it. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He nods. “No problem.” That red in his skin fades away slowly. “I’d say we rest here for the night and go to the village tomorrow. From there, we can go to Hebra.”

Zelda watches him approach a bed. “Is there a village in Hebra?” she questions. 

“No.” Link sits down on the edge of an empty bed, covers beneath him moving with his body. “But there is someone that lives there. She showed me something cool, and her house is warm.” Some sort of realization dawns across his features. Zelda raises a brow peculiarly. 

“What’s so interesting?” she pokes. 

“I know what we’ll do in Hebra.” He has a mischievous tint in his tone, and Zelda makes a face. 

She can only imagine what he has planned for a place like Hebra.

* * *

They buy her clothes in Rito Village. They look nothing like the royal ones she wore in snowy climates before, but they do look very similar to the thicker clothes Link is now wearing. They’re matching, sort of. She likes the idea of it.

As they leave the place, after eating some warm Rito recipes, Link insists on leaving Epona at the Rito stable. 

“I don’t want her to get cold,” he explains, and when he’s not looking, Zelda lets her heart swoon just a little. 

The walk towards the Hebra mountains is fine. It’s cold, but Zelda can manage it, and Link definitely can with all his experience here. It is when they start to climb the actual mountain that Zelda finds herself regretting her agreement to come here. 

“It’s so steep!” she cries, then promptly stumbles over a large rock buried beneath snow. She yells out in fear, but warmth envelopes her in an instant. Zelda tilts her head up and realizes she’s a little too close to Link.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, but neither of them move. 

“Your face is all red,” Link acknowledges. He snorts a little. “You really are cold.”

Zelda narrows her eyes and doesn’t feel as embarrassed anymore. “Of course I am. We’re in a blizzard!”

”Nah, this is normal.”

”Blizzards are normal here?!”

Link snorts again. “I guess so. But you get used to it.” He helps her steady her posture before they continue, and Zelda reluctantly presses onwards. 

She trails somewhat far behind him, but every now and then, Link stops to make sure she isn’t too far, sometimes waiting a moment for her to catch up, and then continues. The small gesture reminds Zelda of the feeling she got whenever she watched him protect her a hundred years ago. Watching his back, realizing that maybe he did some things for her out of something more than his duty. 

Zelda shakes her head. 

By the time she sees a light and a cozy cabin, her entire body feels numb. When she touches her fingertips to her palms, they feel like nothing. Trudging through the snow isn’t as hard now that she can barely feel anything. Zelda quickly dashes up to Link’s side, stopping when she is close enough, and they both pause before the cabin.

Link pads his knuckles against it. They wait a moment. No answer.

“Who lives here?” Zelda inquires.

“Someone,” Link answers vaguely. Zelda gives up asking him further. 

Then, the door opens, and a woman with bronze skin and blonde hair greets them. She immediately smiles when she sees Link.

”It’s been so long, little guy,” she says, and Zelda notes the many shields hanging up in the house behind her. 

“I’m not much shorter than you, Selmie,” Link says with a small laugh. 

The woman—Selmie—darts her eyes over to Zelda. “Wow, you’re even shorter than her.”

Zelda finds herself smiling. She likes this person already. In contrast, Link frowns.

”Nothing wrong with that,” Link says. He flits his eyes over to Zelda. “Right, Princess?”

The formal title dampens Zelda’s mood, but she supposes it’s a better one compared to “Your Highness.” 

“I think it’s charming,” she answers honestly. She always thought Link’s height was cute. He was a cute person. All of a sudden, she can feel the skin of her face again.

Link rolls his eyes and Selmie laughs. 

“Well, come on in, then.” Selmie moves aside so they can do so. “Don’t wanna freeze out there.”

Zelda spots a fire and immediately rushes over to it. She crouches before it, ripping off her gloves and holding her hands out before the gentle, hot flames. It feels like hot water running against her skin, slowly bringing feeling back to her hands. Her skin tingles in a nice way.

Link is beside her, now, holding his hands out to the fire as well. “It’s nice.”

”I cannot believe you made me walk through that cold wasteland,” Zelda says in a mockingly offended tone. “You’re terrible.”

Link shrugs nonchalantly. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

Zelda opens her mouth to say something about the formalities, because maybe they have gotten close enough that he can drop them, but Selmie interrupts her. Part of her is thankful for it. She doesn’t want to mess anything up by stepping too far over invisible boundaries. 

“So what’re you here for?” she asks, and Zelda assumes she’s talking to Link. “I assume it’s not to sightsee.”

”It sorta is,” Link answers. He turns his head so he can face her better. “I wanted to show her more of Hebra. She’s never seen it before.”

”Oh!" Selmie drawls out.

Zelda slowly looks at the woman and forces a smile. “It’s... pretty up here.”

”There are prettier spots,” Selmie says quickly. “I mean, you’ve only walked through the worst parts of it. There’s some spots here where the wind is calm and you can see the sun... Those are my favorite.”

Link nods to affirm this, then looks back to Selmie. “I want to show her shield surfing.”

Zelda already does not like the sound of that. 

Selmie’s eyes sparkle when he says those words. She stares at Zelda. “Have you ever shield surfed before?”

Zelda shakes her head back and forth. 

“Well, have we got something awesome to show you.” Selmie smiles almost devilishly as she rushes around her house. She inspects shields, pulling some down from their mantles, putting them back after assessing them, and finally settles on one sitting in a corner of her house. 

“This is a good one for beginners,” she says, handing over the shield to Zelda. She takes it gingerly, staring at the painted design over the wood. It’s pretty, durably made. How was she going to surf on this?

As they stand up to leave the house, Zelda hurriedly slips on her gloves at the door. Link waits for her, the door slightly ajar, and he pulls the shield off of his back.

”You look scared,” he says.

”I am,” Zelda admits. “This sounds terrifying.”

”It is at first, I’ll admit. But I really think you’ll like it.” Link smiles softly at this, and for a moment, Zelda believes him wholeheartedly.

The moment she puts her feet on the shield’s back and stares down the large steep below her, she doesn’t believe his words at all.

”I can’t do this,” she stutters, turning to face Link and Selmie. “Please don’t make me do this.”

”It’s not that bad!” Selmie tries to assure her, but Zelda does not feel comforted in the slightest. That woman had probably shield surfed down this slope a thousand times before. Doing this was nothing to her, but everything to Zelda.

She stares down the slope again, trying to well up some sort of courage, but it never comes to her. Zelda’s body feels warm and her heart races inexorably against her bones.

”I can’t do this,” Zelda says. “I can’t.”

Link sighs, a puff of smoke leaving his mouth in the cold air, and steps closer to Zelda. “I’ll go with you.”

Zelda balks. “Can you even fit on here?”

”Let’s see.” Link wastes no time in trying to fit his body onto the shield, and Zelda gasps, cold air filling her throat.

She feels like she is about to fall off, like her body is teetering on the edges, but Link is quick to steady her in his arms. Warmth encapsulates her body. Zelda stills against his hold, slipping into it far too easily.

Barely, she turns her head to face him more. Their noses almost touch. “I feel like this is gonna lead to something bad.”

”What ever do you mean, Princess?” Link says, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

”Like we’re both gonna fall over and hurt ourselves.”

”We won’t.” Link steadies their bodies once more on the shield, making sure neither of them will slip. “I’m really good at this. Right Selmie?” He raises his voice on the last sentence.

”Not as good as me,” Selmie hollers back, “but still pretty good! You’ll be fine, miss!”

”Ugh.” Zelda looks back down at the steep slope, breathes in a heavy breath, and then exhales it.

Throughout her life, she realized that fretting over small things only scared her more. Diving in headfirst was not the smartest thing, but sometimes, just pushing herself to do something was all she needed to go forth.

”Just go,” Zelda says, nudging her elbow into Link’s stomach.

”Now?”

”Right now.”

Without a warning, Link kicks them forward, and then the shield is diving down at rapid speed towards the decline. Zelda immediately does what her body wills her to do—she screams. Loudly.

They plummet downwards, and Zelda closes her eyes tightly. Wind rushes against her body, adrenaline coursing through her veins far too quickly, and Link laughs into her ear.

”Don’t close your eyes, Princess!” he yells over the wind. “Look around you!”

Despite how much she wants to keep her eyes closed, Zelda obliges with his suggestion, opening her eyes with a snap. 

She does not regret it at all.

The world is rushing around her, Link is holding her tightly, and the mountain looks so beautiful as they sled down its rocky surface. Snow flies everywhere, glittering snowflakes sticking to her hair and skin, and the sun begins to peek out from the clouds. The sunshine makes the snow sparkle like diamonds. The pine trees sway gently with the wind, the mountains tower over their bodies, and the sky is crystal clear from here.

It really is gorgeous.

As the decline starts to end, the shield slows down, and soon enough, the momentum they had been keeping up stops. Zelda can feel the snowflakes on her body. Her skin is warm in Link’s arms, and they both breathe in sync, breathless from their little journey.

Link breathes into her ear, gentle and warm, and smiles against her hair. “What’d you think?”

Zelda is speechless, almost doesn’t want to admit that she had fun doing something she had been protesting just minutes before. “Exhilarating,” she comments.

”Told you you’d like it,” Link says, moving his arms away from her. 

Zelda finds herself missing the warmth greatly.

Even a hundred years ago, he had never held her like he did just then.

They decide to rest in Rito Village for the night, eating bowls of pumpkin soup and slices of bread, and Zelda still feels the adrenaline from earlier clinging on to her.


	2. two

They stop at the Serenne Stable, one on the other side of the ridge that separates Hebra from the rest of Hyrule, and they sit near the small pot outside together. 

Zelda tries her hand at cooking. Link always cooked for them on their travels, and she had managed to pick up a few tricks watching him. Tonight, she was going to make salted salmon. 

The salmon roasts over the fire, flames tickling its bottom, and Link opens his mouth. He clamps it shut. Zelda gives him a look.

She wants to ask what he wanted to say, but bites her words back. What if he didn’t want to talk about it? She didn’t want to force him to speak. Link only ever spoke when he really needed to, anyway.

But then, surprisingly, he speaks up. “What was my favorite place before?”

Zelda stares at him strangely. The scent of the cooking salmon fills her nostrils. “Why do you ask?”

”Just...” He shrugs. “Just curious.”

Well, it wouldn’t harm her to indulge him a little. “Mabe Village,” she answers. 

Link pauses, then looks at her curiously. “That destroyed village?”

Zelda frowns subconsciously. She has not seen the place since before the Calamity. What does it look like now? Probably nothing nice by the way Link speaks of it. The thought saddens her. He will never be able to walk that village normally like he used to. He will never have those memories again.

She feels bad. They both share that trait in common. Everything they loved was gone in a world post-Calamity.

”It was where you grew up,” Zelda stutters, purposely avoiding his gaze. “That’s what you told me.”

”Oh."

Silence passes between them. Zelda tries to focus more on the salmon cooking. She doesn’t want to burn it. She turns it on its spit, and then Link speaks up again.

”What was it like?”

”Mabe Village?”

”Yeah.”

Zelda thinks. She had only visited Mabe Village twice, so there isn’t much to recount. Not like Link could once recount. But she tries to salvage any memory she has of the place for him.

”It was cozy, always,” she explains. “The people were super kind. The food was amazing. Oh, and there was this celebration they held every year in honor of the Goddess Hylia. It was such a beautiful time.”

”Oh.” Link smiles, surprisingly, but it doesn’t look happy. It looks too sad. Zelda doesn’t like it on him. “It sounds nice.”

”It was.”

They fall into silence again, and Zelda finishes up the two salmon fillets. She plates them on the two plates they’ve used throughout their travels and hands one to Link. “I hope it isn’t terrible.”

Honestly, she feels a little scared about Link trying her cooking. He is practically an expert in it. What if her take on this meal isn’t something he likes?

He takes a bite, chewing it quickly, and then swallows it down. A smile quirks his lips up. “I think you lied to me when you said you couldn’t cook.”

Zelda’s cheeks flush, and she knows it isn’t from the fire stoking at her feet. “Do you like it?”

”I love it,” Link says. “Let’s take turns cooking whenever we stop.”

”You sure about that?”

”Positive, Princess.”

Zelda beams, and the tension from moments before seems to melt away easily. They eat under the stars, exchanging words, a few jokes here and there, and then retreat to the beds in the stable for the night. 

As Zelda lays against her bed, eyes glued to the ceiling, she hears Link shift in his own bed. At the noise, Zelda turns her head to face him.

What she is not expecting is to meet his eyes. She swallows down her nerves. “Hey.”

”Hey.” He yawns into his hand, eyes sleepy, hair falling into his face. “I want you to tell me more about the past.

Zelda’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “Huh?”

”I... I wanna hear about it,” Link says carefully. “I wanna try to remember you. To remember those things.”

Pity ebbs in her stomach. “Link, you don’t have to remember anything.”

”But you remember me. And I know nothing about you.”

Now she is starting to get frustrated. Zelda shifts slightly in her bed, her long hair moving with her body, and gives him a stern look. “You do know things about me.”

Link frowns. “But not like I should.”

”It doesn’t matter. You’re learning new things about me everyday,” she says, voice dropping to a whisper. She does not want to disturb the others sleeping in this stable. “And I’m learning new things about you, too.”

Some sort of clarity seems to dawn upon him. Link’s frown disappears, mouth now slightly parted, and he keeps his eyes locked on Zelda. 

She thinks that is enough for tonight. “Goodnight, Link.” Zelda turns over, her back facing Link’s bed. A sigh leaves her mouth. 

“Goodnight, Zelda.”

Her eyes widen, and it takes all of her self-restraint to not turn over and stare at him. 

She had not heard her name on his lips in a hundred years. 

Tears well into her eyes, but this time, they are nothing short of happiness.

* * *

Epona rides through fields Zelda once remembered looking so lively. There used to be far more travelers walking these paths, roaming this grass, but now, it is terribly empty. It fills her stomach with something acidic. She leans her cheek against Link’s back.

They ride through a particular spot, and Zelda’s heart stops for a moment when she realizes where they are. 

This place never had a specific name to it, but she remembers it by the abundance of blue flowers, the few Silent Princess’s, the large tree growing overhead.

She had fed Link a frog here.

The thought of it makes her giggle against his back, and that catches his attention.

”What’s so funny?” he says. 

“Remember when I forced you to eat a frog?” Zelda snickers. 

“You mean ‘tried?’” Link mumbles. 

“No. You ate it.”

A beat of silence. Realization dawns upon Zelda, only making her laugh harder. 

“You didn’t remember that part?” 

“N... No.” Link’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, I actually ate a frog?"

”Yes!”

”Oh goddesses.” Link sighs deeply as Zelda continues to laugh against his body. “What was wrong with me?”

”I dunno, I thought it was pretty funny.” Zelda shrugs. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”

”Don’t remind me. Ugh, I don’t even wanna imagine what frogs taste like.”

”Would you like to try one again?”

Link tilts his head back to give her a narrowed gaze, but Zelda only laughs harder, burying her face into the dark cloak over his back.

* * *

Hyrule Castle brings back terrible things. Zelda remembers walking its furnished halls once, regal dress adorning her body, and feeling like each step she took was a failure. Everything she did was failure, from the way she took breaks to watch the sun outside to the way she prayed in her bedroom in the late hours of the night. Hyrule Castle reminds her of failures, of everything she failed to accomplish that led to Hyrule’s downfall.

They camp outside as they make their way around Hyrule Castle. Link has run out of most of his rupees and he wants to preserve them for food. Zelda is fine with this. She likes lying underneath the stars, falling asleep under their twinkling smiles.

But sleeping is hard when all she can see is the castle. The way darkness used to encircle it in purple tendrils, the way the stone of it crumbled when Guardians shot their lasers at it. 

The way her father breathed his last breath in those crumbling walls. The way every person in the castle met their ends, surrounded by monuments of failure. 

Zelda’s eyes snap open. Her chest is moving up and down rapidly, every breath feels sharp and cold, and her face is lined with a layer of sweat.

Another nightmare. Nothing different. 

She tries to close her eyes again. It’s hard. Her eyelids feel heavy and wet. 

She sees rain, sheets of it pouring down relentlessly. She sees people screaming, thick blue lasers, and Link toppling over, cuts and bruises littering his body.

Zelda opens her eyes again. She is exhausted, but there is no way she’s getting any sleep like this. Her heart races against her bones as she sits up, wrapping her arms around herself. It doesn’t quell the chill she feels at all. Tears slip out of her eyes slowly, rolling down her cheeks, dripping off her jaw. 

I am still such a failure, she thinks. Once a failure, always a failure. Hyrule was safe now, but it could have been safe one hundred years ago. She and the Champions could have celebrated their victory all together. Now, she is alone, and the ghosts of her friends could not talk to her. 

Link is in the same boat as her. The thought does not calm her in the slightest.

Zelda cries. She doesn't mind doing it as often as she does now. It makes sense nowadays, at least. She cries, cries, cries, her tears staining the dark pants she wears. Her body shakes as she sobs, teeth biting the inside of her cheek to push down any sounds.

”Zelda?”

That is the second time he has said her name. Zelda does not dare to look up, though. She can’t let Link see her like this.

”You alright?” Link asks again, shuffling closer to her slightly. “Zelda.”

”I’m fine,” she chokes out, but the strain in her voice gives away any indication of her being alright. Zelda lifts her head up defeatedly. “Ugh, I’m... I’m not.”

Link is silent for a moment, but Zelda has grown used to his silences. His eyebrows scrunch slightly, but only because he’s deep in thought about... something. “What’s troubling you?"

Zelda sniffs, wiping her forearm across her snotty nose. How embarrassing. “Everything.”

”As in...?”

”Everything I failed to do,” Zelda clarifies. Anger begins to bubble in her chest. “I could have saved everyone. We wouldn’t be here right now like this. We would be old like Impa and Robbie. The Champions would be here.” She bites her lip, but it doesn’t stop her tears like she wants it to. “I tried and I... failed them all.”

Link stares at her pitifully a moment longer, and eventually, she can’t take it anymore. She turns her head, avoiding his eyes. 

“Nothing you would understand,” she grumbles against her arm. “Go back to sleep.”

”No,” Link says quickly. “I’ll never understand it from your view, but you did all you could.”

She looks at him reluctantly. “Did I?” Zelda frowns, hidden behind her arm. “You don’t even remember.”

The comment takes him aback. For a moment, regret sinks deeply into Zelda’s bones. Her eyes widen and she stumbles over her next words. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Zelda purses her lips. “Link, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says after a minute. “I said the wrong thing.”

”I shouldn’t be mean to you, though.”

He ignores this, scooting closer to her. “I’ve spoken to the Champions, y’know.”

Zelda is, admittedly, surprised by this. She never knew he communicated with their ghosts. “What did they say?”

”They told me to keep going, no matter what, and to make sure you were okay,” Link says. There is a look in his eyes, something Zelda can’t quite pin to a word. “None of them are disappointed in you. I don’t think anyone is. Do you know how many people I’ve met that speak of you like a legend?”

The breath leaves Zelda’s throat for a moment. “They... people speak of me?”

”They do.” Link smiles softly. “They speak of your courage. They speak of mine, too. People don’t remember us or the Champions as failures. They remember us as heroes who did all they could.”

Zelda manages to breathe again. The air is colder at night. Her cheeks are flushed red. 

“For what we were given, I think we did pretty good. Especially you.” Link sighs, looking up at the starry sky. “I know you can’t brush aside your feelings, but don’t let it get to you too much. After all, Hyrule is saved, right? We did all we could and saved it. That’s all that matters.” He looks to a Silent Princess growing nearby.

Zelda’s lip quivers and new tears begin to roll down her cheeks. They’re warmer this time, something produced out of the thousand emotions that have afflicted her. She sniffs again, brushing away some of her tears, and smiles gently, only for him. 

Link had always been like this. When he was quiet, Zelda didn’t like him, because she could never tell what was on his mind. But when she finally got him to talk, she found herself liking him more and more. He always spoke so tenderly, treating every word like it was important to him. He had always grown up in silence. Of course every word he spoke was one he chose carefully. 

Zelda loves that about him now, too. She loves him however he is. 

“Thank you, Link,” she mutters, leaning her head against his shoulder. He jolts underneath her touch, but he is warm and does not remind her of failures right now. This is what she needs, she thinks. “Is this alright?”

He takes a moment to reply. “Of course.”

Zelda falls asleep against his shoulder. When morning comes and they wake up sleeping beside each other, limbs entangled and warmth shared, they mention nothing about it as they get ready for the new day of traveling.

* * *

Tall trees pass by Zelda. The Lost Woods is massive from where they are. She gazes at it from Epona’s back, watching the tall trees swish by, and she is reminded of the last time she walked those forest grounds. A chill runs down her spine; it’s unpleasant. She turns her head forward again, stares at Link’s shoulder, and discards the thought of perching her chin there. 

They ride on, and Link’s questions grow more frequent. 

As they travel along the edges of what builds up Death Mountain, towering red rocks and the faint scent of magma nearby, Link asks, “What was my favorite color?”

“Blue,” Zelda says. She knew this. He had told her once. “What’s your favorite color now?”

”...Green.” She watches Link purse his lips, some sort of confusion etching across his face, and then it settles back to normal. “Huh.”

As they round the mountain’s edges and find themselves in an open, destroyed area, Link pulls back Epona’s reigns. The horse comes to a pause, skidding her hooves against the cobblestone pavement below. Zelda instantly recognizes the structure before her, even in its dismal state. 

The Akkala Citadel. Once a proud building, a place people often filtered to and out of, now reduced to nothing but decaying remnants of the Calamity and crushed stone. Zelda stares, horrified, and as much as she wants to tear her eyes away from its ghastly sight, she can’t. 

“Was this place beautiful?” Link mumbles. Epona starts methodically walking towards the Citadel.

Zelda remembers walking its hallways. The torches that hung against the wall always burned orange and bright, the Sheikah that worked there kept the place tidy and lively, and the view from its windows and viewpoints was stunning. It is nothing like it once was. Standing at the top of the structure would give you the same view, but so differently. Rather than hearing people shuffling around you, murmurs of voices behind stone walls, there would be nothing but clear air and quiet. It is not the same. 

“Yes,” she answers slowly, and Epona walks onwards towards the place. 

They stop at the top of it. Debris from the citadel looks over all of Akkala at its front and Lanayru at its back. It is quiet up here. The wind is chillier than Zelda remembers it being. It isn’t the same. 

But Akkala is still beautiful, with its expanse of lush green grass, its tall and proud trees of orange, yellow, and red. Zelda can see a town just ahead, something that definitely was not there when she last saw Akkala like this. And in the distance is a horse stable, resting beside the Akkala Ancient Tech Lab. 

Zelda sighs against the cold wind. She shivers, bringing her hands closer to her mouth, blowing warm air into them. 

“Akkala hasn’t changed, right?” Link says when he sidles up beside her. Behind them, Epona is munching on an apple. It is the only sound present, save for the slight gusts of the wind and the breaths Link and Zelda breathe. 

“It hasn’t.” Zelda gazes onward. “I’m glad the nature wasn’t destroyed, at least. The trees and everything—they’re all the same.”

When she looks at Link out of the corner of her eye, she sees the ghost of a smile on his face. “Nature persists, I guess,” he says easily. “I like that.”

Zelda swallows thickly. He is right, in that regard. Everything she remembered from Hyrule was gone, but that was only its structures. Everything else remained stable and constant. 

Nature is everlasting. 

The thought brings a rush of happiness to her heart. She feels happier than she did when they walked up the spiral of stairs leading to the citadel.

”Kinda like us,” Zelda muses, “in a way.”

The wind blows. Link’s hair tickles her cheek, and it is the only thing that makes Zelda realize how closely they had been standing beside each other. 

Neither of them move, and Link smiles fondly at her. 

“Definitely like us.”

* * *

Hateno is closer than ever now. A drop of some sort of pity falls into Zelda’s stomach, acidic as it laps in there, and she stares up at the starry sky above her. A fire crackles near her feet, Epona lays comfortably a few feet away from her, and Link is leaning against the same tree trunk as her. Their shoulders barely graze against each other. 

For a moment, Zelda wishes it could be like this forever. 

And then it dawns upon her that their journey across Hyrule is coming to a close soon. The thought of its ending makes Zelda sadder than she had been anticipating. They were still not like they were a hundred years ago, but she thinks they have grown to be... comfortable around each other again. It is nice. She is afraid that falling back to the simplicity of life in Hateno will diminish that, somehow.

Maybe she’s overthinking it. She isn’t sure. Zelda has not been sure of much for a while.

“You look troubled,” Link mumbles, his voice riddled with sleep. He’s barely hanging on to his consciousness. “What’s on your mind?”

A flush floats across her cheeks. Zelda makes sure to avoid his eyes, staring crossly at the licks of flame before her. “Nothing important.”

”Okay.” Link stays silent for a moment. “I still wanna know.”

Zelda sighs. “So stubborn.” When Link makes a pouting face at her, she rolls her eyes, albeit her smile. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

He listens with eager eyes. 

“We’re close to Hateno,” Zelda begins. Her hands feel clammy against her knees. “This little trip will be over soon.”

“It will be.”

Zelda lowers her eyes, staring at her hands. She raises a hand up, letting the flame rest fully against her skin, and stares at the shadows of her fingers. The sky is brilliant in front of her. 

“I enjoy this,” she says. “I enjoy traveling with you.”

”I enjoy it too, Zelda.”

It’s not enough to simply enjoy. She wants it to be more. 

”I kinda wish...” Zelda bites her bottom lip. “I wish it could... be like this forever.”

There are crickets buzzing nearby, a soft cacophony of sounds intruding on the silence, and the fire crinkles in front of them, but Zelda can’t stand it. He doesn’t reply for a while, and she begins to mull over her words, realizing the weight of them. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut. 

Link mumbles something beside her, but Zelda is too caught up in her own thoughts to hear anything. She jerks her head to the side. “What did you say?” she asks. 

“I said—um—“ He looks straight ahead at the fire. “I said it could be.”

Zelda’s eyes widen, and her heart momentarily pauses, along with the rest of the world around them. 

She imagines it. Traveling Hyrule with him, seeing sights she has seen a million times alone before, because it is somehow different when he is there. Her heart stutters at that thought. She knows what it is. She had felt this way for him once upon a time. 

Everything has changed, including Zelda and Link, but it seems something between them never broke.

Something stayed there. 

Zelda smiles, a warm feeling bubbling in her body. “Do you mean that?” she asks. 

The warmth of his smile beams against her skin. She likes all his smiles, but she likes this one most, because she had never seen him direct it at anyone else but her, even before. 

“I do,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

And maybe it is.

* * *

Hateno has not changed at all since they left it. The same people walk its loose cobblestone paths, the same shopkeepers attempt to reel in customers, the same crops are grown in their patches of dirt beside houses. The air is always refreshing here, crisp and cool, the faint scent of the salty sea just a few yards away tinging it. Zelda breathes in deeply, then exhales, as she sees Link’s house come into sight. 

They both dismount Epona, and Link leads her into the shed she likes to lay comfortably under, shade protecting her. Zelda watches them for a moment before opening the door. It still creaks the same way. She supposes they could fix that soon.

Zelda steps into the house, leaving the door open behind her. She looks at the dining table in the center, the small tablecloths draped over them still a little messy from the last meal they ate here. The thought of eating here again makes her smile, because no longer are meals between them awkward and wordless. Perhaps dinner tonight will be better. 

Then, she walks upstairs, gaze lingering on the door. Surprisingly, Link has still not come inside. Zelda narrows her eyes, but she brushes it off, and walks closer to the bed. 

Oh, that’s right. There is a large painting above Link’s dresser, one she had never bothered to even glance at before. 

She takes a look back at the door. He still isn’t here. But why should that stop her?

Zelda steps closer to the dresser, and her knees almost give out when she takes a closer look at it. 

It is an old photograph, one that Zelda remembers being a part of. She stands in the center of it, a shocked look crossing her face, and Link is beside her looking equally as surprised. Next to her is Revali, Mipha is standing next to Link, Urbosa is smiling widely, and Daruk is holding them all together. 

Her and the Champions, who could have saved Hyrule. 

She looks at her own self, a hundred years back, and can only see disappointment in that girl. 

Zelda cries. She feels tears fall from her eyes, dripping down her chin, and cries. 

She misses them—the Champions. She misses Daruk’s bright grins, Urbosa’s warm hugs, Mipha’s gentle laugh, Revali’s snarky humor. She misses them greatly—they all died for nothing. All because of her own mistakes, the failures she brought upon herself.

Her tears won’t stop. Zelda moves over to the bed, flopping her body against it, and cries, cries, and cries. Tears soak into the fabric. It smells like earth and flowers—like Link. That makes her cry harder. 

Time passes, but she isn’t sure how much. She is only broken from her state of anguish when she feels the bed dip at her feet. Zelda twists her head, eyes now facing the window at her right. It is still daytime—blue skies greet her calmly and sunshine filters through the glass. 

Zelda sighs. Her cheeks feel crusty from the tears staining them. “When did you get here, Link?”

Link doesn’t reply immediately. “How’d you know it was me?”

She smiles wryly to herself. “Who else would be with me?”

Another moment of contemplative silence. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone else is gone,” Zelda mumbles defeatedly. “The Champions... my father... so many people lost...” Fingers scrunch up the cloth of the bed sheets. “All because of me.”

Zelda can hear children laughing from somewhere outside. The wind blows against the stone of the house, but Link doesn’t speak. Nothing unusual. 

Link once told her the reason he never spoke: it was because the pressure of being a knight, of being the wielder of the Master Sword especially, put a whole load of burdens on his shoulders. The only way he saw fit to deal with these burdens was to respond to them in silence. To him, it worked. To him, it was a way to persevere. 

Zelda guesses it is something akin to that now, even. She can’t imagine the heavy feeling of waking up in an unfamiliar world, suddenly tasked by the gods to carry out a duty that should have been laid to rest a hundred years before. Perhaps he dealt with that in the same way—giving only silence to the world that was relentless in its ways. 

They stay like that a while, letting the day move on while they do nothing. Zelda watches as the sky slowly changes colors, the clouds move lazily across it, and the noises from outside begin to die out. Even now, the sky is still beautiful. She had watched it a thousand times before, and it always descended into darkness like this. Blue to yellow, yellow to orange, then to red, pink, purple, navy blue.

At least something in her life remained constant. 

By the time navy blue has graced the sky, Zelda breathes out deeply. Pushing herself up, she twists her waist so that she can see if Link is still there. 

And he is. 

His body is upright, mostly, save for the elbow he has perched on his thigh. His hand is holding his face up, eyes closed in light slumber. Starlight bathes against his back and the blue hoops in his ears glimmer against it. 

Zelda cannot tear her eyes away. He is beautiful. Her heart wrenches inside her body.

He stayed beside her that whole time. She never said a word about it. 

She feels terribly bad about the uncomfortable position he has fallen asleep in. So, Zelda taps his shoulder, trying to rouse him, but he doesn’t budge. She deadpans, moving closer to him, and shakes his body a little. 

Still no response. 

“Link,” she prods, rustling him again. “Wake up, silly.”

Somehow, this gets him. He blinks quickly, raising his face away from his hand, which has left behind a red imprint from the pressure. Zelda can only describe the bewildered expression on his face as cute. 

“You fell asleep like this,” she says with a laugh. 

“Oh.” Link looks down at his body. “Oops.”

Zelda smiles warmly at him. “Thanks for staying with me, though.”

”Of course.” He yawns dramatically into his hand. “I’m always here.”

She smiles wider at that, then moves to lay on the right side of the bed. It’s small, definitely not big enough for two people and a respectable amount of space between them, but she doesn’t mind it. 

It’s nicer to sleep close to him rather than completely alone.

”Lay down,” Zelda says drowsily, sleep washing over her. She lays her head against the pillow, long hair bunching up underneath her head. 

Link just stares at her. She stares back, eyes narrowed. 

“What?”

”Are you okay with this?” Link asks.

”With what?”

He looks to the side, then hesitantly nestles himself into the empty space on the bed beside Zelda. He shifts a little, trying to find a comfortable position, and then settles. 

Their eyes lock. 

“This?” he says again.

Zelda reaches her arm out, fingertips brushing aside a strand of stray blonde hair falling in front of his eye. She tucks it behind his ear. He looks starstruck. 

“More than okay,” she replies, closing her eyes. 

They fall asleep.

* * *

“I wish I could remember them,” Link says offhandedly at breakfast the next morning. He’s carefully watching fried eggs sizzle over a pan of bubbling butter. Zelda stands near him, slicing strawberries they had bought earlier from the little store in town. 

“Who?” Zelda asks, but she has a tingling suspicion of what he means. 

“The Champions,” he says. “I have small memories of them, but I...” Link swallows thickly, staring narrowly at the eggs on the pan. He’s zoning out. Zelda watches the eggs. “I wish I could remember them, y’know? With memories of my own, not... not by pictures... or groundbreaking moments. Just—memories.”

Zelda stops cutting the strawberries and moves closer to him. “Don’t let them burn.”

Link blinks three times before he registers her words. He hurriedly shovels the now cooked fried eggs off of the pan and onto a plate. The bubbling butter simmers down with the lack of heat, leaving behind crisp brown edges on the pan.

”Sorry,” he mumbles, and before Zelda can tell him it’s okay, he continues. “I guess I just miss them in that way—if that even makes sense.”

”What does it... feel like?” Zelda asks, curious, as she begins to slice the last strawberry from the wicker basket on the counter. “To miss people you don’t remember.”

”It’s...” Link shakes his head. “I don’t wanna trouble you with it.”

Zelda grimaces. “I’ve laid out my problems to you far too many times and you’ve always listened.” She tries to put more positivity in her voice. “You can tell me anything, if you want. I’ll always listen too.”

She looks away from him, focusing on the strawberries again. They’ve already torn down countless walls that a hundred years built between them, but some walls are harder to break, and she doesn’t want to let them crumble too easily. Zelda finishes up the strawberries, deposits them into the washing basin, and lets them soak. Who knows what little critters are crawling in the small fruits. 

Zelda bites back the sigh that wants to leave her lips. Giving him time is what she wants to do—pressuring him to talk is no good. 

The strawberries soak, Link dusts the eggs with salt and pepper, and the wind outside rustles the wind chimes. 

“It’s just empty,” Link finally says, holding the salt shaker limply in his hand. “I don’t feel like this is real.”

Zelda shudders at that thought. She looks at the soaking strawberries, then back to Link.

He looks back at her. 

A frown pulls his lips down. “I don’t feel like myself.”

Zelda knows she cannot ever understand that feeling—a stranger to your own body. She can’t even begin, but she can imagine that hollowness. 

“Sometimes I feel like that,” Zelda says, “only because everything that made up my life is gone now. The only difference is I... I remember it all.”

They hold each other’s gazes a while longer. Breakfast is starting to get cold. 

“I try to think of it like this,” Zelda begins, dipping her hands into the water basin. “The life I had before is over now. The only thing I can do now is forge a new one.”

Link's eyebrows raise slightly at this. 

Zelda grins. “And it’s okay to be sad, sometimes. But it’s better to look forward most times.”

She scoops strawberry slices out of the basin, dropping them back into the wicker basket they came from. Zelda grabs the towel Link had strung over his shoulder. She rubs it against her hands, and he stares at her, shocked. 

“Do you get what I mean, Link?” she asks.

”Forge a new life...” he mumbles, his expression barely changing. Zelda can see something in his eyes—some sort of revelation is occurring, but he’s only staring at her. 

“Let’s not let breakfast get cold,” she says, turning around and grabbing the plates of eggs. She evenly distributes some strawberries onto both plates, then brings them over to the table. 

Zelda sits down. Link meets her at the table, sitting across from her. 

He pops a strawberry slice into his mouth, stands up, and returns with a mason jar of sugar and a spoon. 

“Do you like sugar on your strawberries?” Link asks. 

“Only makes ‘em better. Give me some.” Zelda waves her fingers out at the spoon, which Link holds back with a cheeky smile on his face. 

He sprinkles a spoonful of sugar onto his strawberries and does the same for Zelda’s. “There you go.”

”Thank you so kindly,” Zelda says dramatically, splaying a hand over her heart and using the other to eat a strawberry slice. 

Link smiles at her, and it’s warm like always, but somewhat different this time. 

Different in a good way, of course.

Zelda’s thought from yesterday came true: this breakfast was the most pleasant one they had ever had together. 

* * *

Things change. They fall into a sense of normalcy Zelda can’t quite describe. She has never felt this way before. The calmness of it all cannot be written down with her words. It is a feeling too complex for letters, she guesses, but the thought is disappointing. How she wishes to describe this feeling, this new air she wakes up and breathes everyday.

Whatever it is, Zelda knows she wants to harbor it forever. But how can she keep something she is only barely aware of?

She walks through Hateno, admiring the little shops, the small enclosures with chickens and sheep and cows, the tall grass and the flowers planted along the cobblestone paths. Zelda watches the world move around her, just as it did a hundred years ago, and realizes that, really, not too much has changed. 

People are gone, buildings are destroyed, but the grass still grows in the same way. The flowers still look more colorful in the sunlight. The water still flows in the same directions, ultimately leading to the seas behind the village. 

They are constant. Zelda stops before the hill leading up to the ancient tech lab and gazes out at the sea. The sand is fresh and white, the ocean is rolling and blue. The wind rustles her hair, tickling her skin, and she almost drops the wicker basket of grapes and bananas she had bought earlier today. 

There is something about this she wants to keep forever. Zelda closes her eyes, feels the cool wind rush against her skin, and opens them again. Nothing changes. She smiles softly to the ocean.

When she returns to Link’s house, the wind chimes that hang near the front door sing a little louder with the wind. The sound makes her heart soar. She closes the door behind her, sets the basket down on the empty dining table, and hears Link moving around upstairs.

Curious, she leaves the basket and tiptoes upstairs, peeking over the floor to see him sitting at his desk.

There is a slab of wood in front of him, brushes in his hands, and deep concentration melted across his face. His lips are scrunched and the tip of his tongue barely pokes out from his mouth. 

Zelda can’t tear her eyes away. She watches, focusing on his hands as he paints away at the slab of wood, working meticulously so as not to mess up. 

Her eyes travel up to watch his face, and that is when their gazes meet. 

Deep red dusts across her face. She pretends she doesn’t acknowledge it. Zelda walks fully up the stairs, pressing a small grin on her face. “What’re you doing?”

Link looks at her a moment, then turns back to his work, sweeping brush strokes across the wood slab again. “You were watching me for a while—thought you’d realize by now.

So, he can still tease. Of course he can. Zelda narrows her eyes at him, although he can’t see the gesture. “Very funny. I actually don’t know what you’re doing, though.” She sighs. “Even if I was... watching you.”

Link stops painting the wood, but he doesn’t face her. “Painting. I’m trying to make something cool.”

”Oh.” Zelda steps closer to the desk, getting a better look at what he’s attempting to paint.

”Some woman in Hateno showed me how to paint nature,” he explains. “I thought it looked fun.”

”What part of nature are you painting?”

”A Silent Princess,” Link answers. Zelda instantly smiles at the flower’s wonderful name.

“It’s beautiful,” she comments. 

He looks directly at her, pausing in his paint strokes. Something glints in his eyes. “The name fits,” he says, then turns back to his work. 

Zelda stares back. She has a feeling she knows what he’s implying, but maybe she’s overthinking it. Her bones feel weak against her heart.

“I bought grapes and bananas,” Zelda quickly says, just so she can distract herself from her heartbeat. “Let’s wash the grapes.”

Link drops his paintbrush, flexes his fingers, and stretches his arms out dramatically. When he lowers them into his lap, he smiles and says, “I need a break, anyway.”

They wash the grapes together, the washing basin full of the little things, and the wind chimes sing even louder outside. 

* * *

Zelda likes Link’s house for many reasons. She likes the colors of it all, because they are warm and easy on the eyes. She likes the flowers growing outside of it, small and cute and blue. She likes the furniture inside, the way the lighting bounces off of the walls, and the sweet smell of flowers that always wafts through the place. She likes a lot about it, but her favorite part of it all is the small cliff just outside the house, the one dotted with an abundance of blue flowers, tall grass, a small pond, and a thick tree. 

She likes it because it is beautiful, and it overlooks everything. From here she can see the Sheikah Tower in the distance, grand and glowing blue. She can see all of Hyrule beneath it, green and lovely, and the tall mountains that tower over the world, capped with fresh snow and mystery. 

Zelda likes coming out here every morning, letting cool air touch her skin, and breathing clearly. It is nice to be able to wake up and simply breathe. No longer does waking up entail a day of failure and stress. Now, she can live.

Yet, today tells a different tale. She walks out to the cliff, dangling her legs over its daunting edge, and stares out at the world. It is endlessly green, as it had always been. Nature is constant, she reminds herself. Monuments and stone were destroyed through the years, but the trees and the grass persisted. 

One structure managed to stay, somehow. Her eyes glide over to it. It is impossible to miss—Hyrule Castle is a beacon shining down upon Hyrule. 

Zelda stares at it, wistful, and wonders when the last time she had truly walked its halls was. Festering the Calamity within the malice she subjected herself to didn't count. There, she never walked its halls of red carpets and bright lights. She never walked to the gardens outside or the balconies that extended from countless rooms. 

Perhaps if she had just stopped the Calamity before it took over... None of this would have happened.

She is a failure. The word will be etched on her skin forever, an imprint of shame no water can clean. She had failed. She is a terrible princess. She will be an even worse queen. It only makes sense.

Zelda stands up. She can't handle the silence of the wind or the sight of a place she once called her home. Instead, she turns to Link's house behind her, the cream walls and chipped wooden edges she looks at as something akin to home.

It could be a home, she thinks, stepping inside and seeing leftover food from breakfast littering the tablecloth. She walks to the table, fingertips brushing over the sewn flowers on the cloth. They are pink and small. Bread crumbs scatter over it. She takes one between her fingers and kneads it until it is nothing.

Something is bubbling in her gut; she can feel it. The familiar sense of dread, the shame, the overwhelming feeling of weakness. She has caused so much pain. So much.

Zelda turns her head and finds herself staring at her reflection. Her eyes are wide, dark bags dragging them down. She is tired, but tired of what? Of living? That can't be. She looks forward to sunshine mornings and sugar-coated strawberries shared over breakfast with Link. Of this place? She quite likes Hateno. It is a good temporary place. Of herself?

That must be it.

She notices her hair. It is longer than ever. The pool of malice she had lived within for a century had kept her body stagnant—now, it grows. Her skin becomes older. Her muscles become stronger. Her hair grows longer. 

Despite it all, she manages to look the same she did the day she failed her kingdom. The day she failed the world.

Maybe she is stupid, acting on such a whim like this, but it is the only thing that can quell her mind. She won't feel right until she can do this.

Zelda walks upstairs to the desk that sits up there. Her hand shakes, itching to do what she needs to do. Link is not in the house right now, out fetching bread and meats before they run out of them, and she sees that as a blessing in disguise. She takes a small dagger from the drawer of his desk and turns it over in her hand. She has never used a weapon like this in years. At the very least, she is not using it for violence. 

She presses the dagger against her hair, trailing it closer and closer to her shoulders. Ultimately, she stops right at them. The dagger shakes ever so slightly in her hand, and she uses the other to scrunch her hair into a single clump.

It feels scary to do it, at first. She can't remember the last time she cut her hair. It has been long for a hundred years, and even more before that. She had kept it long because her mother had long hair, too. It was a small way to keep some sort of semblance of her mother on her. A small reminder of the strong woman she came from. Now, it only reminds her of failure and shame, of the girl she used to be.

But she is different now. She hopes she is. She hopes she can be something more than the failure she had always looked at herself as.

She wants to change.

Zelda looks at herself in the mirror, glances at the dagger pressed against her hair, and she exhales. It's a small step forward, but it is something. It would be nice to get rid of another heavy weight on her back, another reminder of the person she didn't want to remember sometimes. When she looks at her long hair, she sees a terrible princess. She knows that is not who she can be.

She holds the dagger against her hair and cuts. 

It slices cleanly through with all the force she uses, stray blonde hairs falling down to the floor. Zelda grips tightly onto the long hair still in her hand, dagger held firmly in the other. She stares at it, breathless, and the back of her neck is cold. 

She drops to her knees, craning her head down to stare at the small hairs on the wooden floor. 

The wind blows harshly against the side of the house. It sends a wave of chill through the slightly cracked windows, making her back feel lighter than ever.

Zelda drops her hair onto the floor, slowly unclasping her grip around it. Blonde locks flutter to the ground, and soon, her hand is empty. 

Her hair is shorter. It only barely touches her shoulders. 

She feels light. 

She feels free. 

Breathing is even clearer now. 

Zelda stands up and looks at herself in the mirror.

Rather than a failure, she sees a girl who is more than enough.

* * *

Zelda washes the new strawberries waiting in a wicker basket on the kitchen counter. She feels around the washing basin they float in, making sure they are all cleansed properly, and then the front door opens. Link is back, finally. A giddy smile comes to her face.

”Hey—“ he says, but that is all he says before she hears something fall to the floor. Zelda turns around briskly, short hair swishing, and sees Link staring at her dumbfounded. The giddy smile returns to her face. 

“Your hair!” Link exclaims, pointing at the obvious. Zelda laughs with her whole stomach, something she hasn’t done in a while. He blinks rapidly. “You cut it.”

She laughs again. “Great observation.”

Link shakes his head and picks up the basket he had been holding. It probably holds the bread and meat he said he was buying. He sets it down in the kitchen, taking a closer look at Zelda. “Wow,” he observes intelligently. 

Zelda touches the ends of her short hair. “It’s kinda messy. I did it quickly.”

”It’s not bad,” Link says hurriedly. 

“Do you like it?”

Link blinks one more time, slowly. He smiles softly in the end. “Suits you well.”

Zelda knows she’s blushing. She returns her focus to the strawberries in the washing basin. Offhandedly, she points to the basket he brought in. “So what’s for dinner?”

”I was thinking salt-grilled meat,” he says, taking the contents out of the wicker basket. “Maybe some bread on the side?”

Zelda nods vigorously. “And strawberries for dessert?”

”I have a better idea than that.” Link’s smile grows. “What about strawberry shortcake?”

”Oh my.” Zelda can’t remember the last time she had that dessert. The faintest memory she has of it is eating it in a courtyard alone. She wants a better recent memory of strawberry shortcake. “That sounds divine.”

”Then let’s get to it,” Link says.

They cook beside each other. It’s a simple thing, really, but as they move easily alongside one another, Zelda thinks. Here they are, a hundred years from where they used to be, a thousand different walls crumbled and broken, things that had once tried to separate them. Here they are, working together, living together, as if there was never a wall in the first place. 

Zelda ponders over Purah’s words from months ago. 

“You always come back to each other, right?”

Zelda smiles to herself as she slices bread, smoothing butter across its fluffy surface. 

Perhaps Purah was right. 

* * *

This is the new normal, Zelda realizes. Months pass and they live alongside each other in Hateno Village. The house does not seem as barren anymore. Zelda begins to notice the subtle changes in the place. The new pictures on the wall, the new smells, the new blankets and pillows, the large recliner by the fireplace, the finished painting of Link’s Silent Princess hanging by their bed. 

_Their_ bed. 

Zelda smiles, indulging herself in the thought.

Wind chimes sing heavenly from outside. Zelda watches the world from a window, dark and beautiful, the moon gazing down at her softly. 

She hears Link walk up the stairs, but she doesn’t face him. The world is captivating, and she knows Link will come back to her. 

He does, like always. Link kneels down where she is kneeling, peering out the window himself. 

“I had an idea,” Link mumbles softly into the night. Zelda hums, letting him know she is listening. He continues. “Let’s travel Hyrule again.”

The words he says are not what she had been expecting. Zelda’s heart momentarily pauses at their weight. She had planned to inevitably ask him to travel with her again. She never thought he would ask first, this soon, even. 

Realizing she has stayed silent longer than intended, she speaks. “I’d love that.”

He smiles. She can feel the muscles of it against her shoulder. “When do you want to leave?”

Zelda can’t help but smile, too. “I chose when we left the first time. How about you choose this time?”

”Alright. How about right now?”

Her eyes widen, and she shifts away slightly from Link. He is still smiling. There’s a strange glint in his eyes. It’s almost playful. “Right now? Like—right this second?”

”What else would I mean?” Link says. He nudges her gently with his shoulder. “You okay with that?”

Zelda thinks over it. She does want to travel. She really, really wants to. The thought of it brings her the same happiness she feels whenever they cook dinner together, because, simply, he will be there. He will be beside her as they travel, and she will be in awe of every sight they see, this time not alone.

She remembers traveling Hyrule alone. Before they had become friends a hundred years ago, she often did her traveling by herself. It was lonely. The world felt massive around her small body. 

But to be with him through all of that?

She could not ask for anything more. 

“Absolutely,” she says, firmly nodding. Zelda stands up from the windowsill she had been leaning against, a new pep in her step. “Let’s pack then. Where are we going first?”

”Wherever the roads take us,” Link answers vaguely.

Zelda likes that answer. 

* * *

They end up not riding Epona to wherever they are going. Zelda packs as many things she deems necessary for a spontaneous trip, as does Link, and then they are off. They begin to climb the cliffs behind their house, and when they finally emerge on the top, Zelda bends down to catch her breath. 

Their house, huh. Everything that had once been just his seemed to become theirs in her mind, now. 

Of course it would end up this way. 

“Where are we going?” Zelda asks, breathless. She pushes herself upright again and rushes up to be by his side. “We could take Epona.”

”This place isn’t far,” Link says. “We can get another horse later. Epona needs a break.”

”She’s a horse.”

”She has feelings, too.” Link pouts, but he brushes it off quickly. He waves a hand at Zelda, then continues walking forward. “Follow me.”

Zelda hesitantly does so. She has not traveled without a horse in a long time. It has been too long since she’s done much, she supposes. Maybe it is better to refresh her experiences with these new ones. She settles on this decision; it eases the anxiety in her bones a little more. 

They walk on, walking carefully down steep hills and climbing up walls of stone. Link is a pro at the climbing part—Zelda is not. He helps her most of the way, and eventually, she can feel herself getting better at it. 

Zelda isn’t sure how much time passes before the sun begins to peek out from the horizon; she doesn’t really care, either. So long as the thrum in her heart continues to sing and Link keeps looking at her that way—she is fine with everything as it is now. She is fine with being a little lost, now, because she doesn’t know every corner of Hyrule like Link does. She is fine with the bags under her eyes and the fresh sunlight bearing against her body. She feels light and free. It is enough.

The sky is almost yellow now. It is still pink, the sun is barely there, but it’s beautiful. The beginning of a new morning. Zelda can see her breath as they climb the winding path up a mountain she has never noticed before now. It is near Lurelin—she can see the sleeping village hundreds of feet below, the salty waves licking the sandy shores. It brings a smile to her face. 

“Almost there,” Link says, but then he stops. Rummaging through one of his bags, he procures a chunk of bread and an apple. He tosses them to Zelda, and she catches them dutifully. “In case you’re hungry.”

Zelda cradles the apple in her hand, holds the bread in the other. Link smiles gently at her. Her heart beats graciously against her ribs. She likes the feeling; she is used to it when she’s with him.

She eats the apple first, then moves onto the bread. By the time she has taken in the last bite, Zelda can at last see the top of the mountain they are climbing. Adrenaline fills her body. “What’s even up here?” she asks. 

Link looks back at her. “A lake.”

Zelda snorts. “All this trouble for a lake?”

Link rolls his eyes, and Zelda snickers. “When you see it, you’ll see why. All the mountain climbing will be worth this ‘trouble.’”

”Uh-huh,” Zelda says sarcastically. She sees Link’s body jostle with laughter and considers that a victory. She walks closer beside him. “I do want to say, though, Link—“

”Hm?” His full attention is on her. 

The sky is getting yellower. Pink still touches its edges. “I'm glad I get to travel with you,” Zelda says quietly, a voice saved for only themselves. “No matter where we go, even if it’s a little lake, I'm glad it’s with you.”

Link stops right before they can see the very top of the mountain. He looks down at Zelda, only thanks to the incline they stand on, and the wind swishes his long hair in front of his face. There is a look in his eyes she can’t quite pinpoint. Zelda melts underneath it, whatever it may be.

”I could say the same,” he says gently, then holds his hand out. “We’re here.”

Zelda takes his hand. His skin is warm against hers. She doesn’t want to let go for a long while. 

Link grins. “Close your eyes, though.”

Zelda groans dramatically, but closes her eyes anyway. “What’s so secret about a lake?”

”You’re gonna love it, I swear.”

”This secret lake better be the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh it will be.”

“You sound confident about it.”

“What can I say? I am.”

Link pulls her forward, the ground moving slowly beneath her feet. They walk higher up the incline of the mountain. Eventually, Zelda can feel sunlight blaring against her face. She desperately wants to open her eyes, especially when she starts to hear water lapping gently against the wind. It sounds beautiful. It must look beautiful.

He had a knack for showing her beautiful things. 

Warmth leaves her fingers when he moves his hand away. Zelda already misses it, but she lets her hand fall back to her side. 

“Can I look now?” she asks. 

Link doesn’t answer for a long while. She feels impatient, but she resists the urge to say anything. The water moves, and the sunlight creeps further over the mountain silhouettes.

”Okay, open your eyes,” Link says, and for a fleeting moment, she is reminded of the first words she ever spoke to him after their separation.

No use in getting lost in the past again. Zelda breathes in. This is the new life she is forging. She breathes out, and it is otherworldly. It’s hard to describe the beauty with just words, but she tries. 

There is a field of tall flowers and grass before her, pinks and yellows and blues sprouting abundantly from the lush soil. The sky is the perfect blend of pink and yellow, even a tinge of purple hidden in there. But the most eye-catching part of the whole scene is the lake in the center of it all. It is no ordinary lake. It is in the shape of a heart, perfectly smooth at the edges, with clear waters resting inside of it. In that water, the whole sky reflects perfectly in it. A mirror to the sky above, pink and purple in the water. 

Zelda stares, breathless, wordless. She takes slow steps forward, stopping just before the water can touch her brown traveling boots, already a bit worn and scuffed from the trips they had been on. She kneels down before the lake’s edges. Brown soil stains her pants, but she could care less. 

She looks down at her reflection in the water. It is like a mirror—she would believe it was if it wasn’t for the way the reflections wavered.

Link sits beside her. Zelda watches his reflection move beside her own. He smiles down at the water, looking directly at it.

“What do you think?” he mumbles.

Zelda blinks, dumbfounded, and continues to admire their reflections. “You were right. It’s wonderful. I can’t believe I never saw a place such as this before.”

“But here we are,” Link says. “We’re here.”

She thinks about it. After all this time, after all this separation, they are here together. A heart-shaped lake stares back into their eyes. It’s a new future. Zelda watches as her own tears plop against the mirror of the lake, instantly destroying the calmness of the almost stagnant water. 

“Thank you,” she utters out, because that’s all that’s left to say. Link helped her forge this new life. They worked together for this. 

But there is still much more to say—she knows it. She doesn’t dare say it. It’s too soon. Is it?

”I came here a lot before,” Link says in a hushed tone. The wind blows his hair calmly. “Well, before I beat Calamity Ganon.”

Hearing that wretched name makes Zelda want to cave into the earth. The bringer of all her sorrows. 

“I met a woman here. Can’t remember her name, but she was a nice Gerudo lady. She was looking for a lover.” Link dips his fingers into the water, wading them through it serendipitously. “I helped her find someone. That’s why she isn’t here anymore—she found someone she loved. But I kept coming back here.”

”So this is a… destination for lovers of some sort?” Zelda ponders aloud.

Link nods beside her. “Sorta. People seeking that love, or people who have found it.”

”...Oh.” Zelda doesn’t meet his eyes. They still stare at each other from the mirror of the water below them. It feels easier this way—her heart still beats traitorously against her ribs, but her words slip out easily, like she has been ready to say them her entire life. 

In a way, she might have been. 

“Every time I came back here, I knew I was missing something, but I don’t know what,” he goes on. His eyes flit over to her in the water’s reflection. She tenses a little under his gaze. “Did I ever love someone?”

Zelda’s eyes widen. For once, she has no answer to a question about him. It is one of the few things she never figured out. “I’m not sure. If you did, you never spoke of it.”

”Not once?”

”Nope.”

”Oh.”

Link’s eyes flicker back to look at himself. “Did you ever love someone?”

Zelda swallows. The world is massive around her. The words in her mouth feel like cotton falling from her throat. This is a passage she had never tried to cross before—it’s terrifying. “I did. I do.”

“You still do?”

”Of course. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

He must be figuring it out by now. Their eyes meet on the reflection of the lake. “Who is it?”

Zelda bites her bottom lip. It’s on the tip of her tongue. “Someone.”

Link nudges her shoulder languidly. She eases into the touch. “You can tell me.”

“You’ll laugh.” She smiles bitterly. 

“I would never,” Link says, feigning offense. Zelda chuckles at his little display. “I wanna know everything about you, Zelda.”

The world around them pauses. It is only them, she thinks, just for a moment. 

”...Well then. I will tell you, but only if you tell me something new, too.” Zelda grins haughtily. “I think that is only fair.”

”Fair enough.” Link shrugs a little, scooting closer to her. “Now tell me.”

”It’s—“ Zelda scrunches her fingers into the palms of her hands. She can feel the lines of her palms beneath her fingertips, intricate lines she had often traced before. The world is smaller around her. She is massive. “It’s you.”

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if the ground caved in completely beneath her. 

“It’s always been you.”

Zelda wants to take her heart and swallow it, never let it beat this furiously again.

Rather than watching his reaction through the lake’s reflection, she closes her eyes tightly, bracing herself for whatever he is going to say. Whether it’s a rejection or something similar, she doesn’t want to see it. Embarrassment creeps into her bones. She has always hated this feeling.

”I guess it’s time for me to share something, huh?” Link says.

Zelda feels cold, but she listens. 

“It’s you, too.”

Zelda’s breath stops in her throat. 

She had always dreamt of him saying those words back to her. Dreams often plagued her, soft things wherein they roamed a field of lush flowers, collapsed against their beds, and whispered hushed love confessions under a beaming sun. Those were merely dreams, though. Zelda never had faith in them.

But this is real. Link is right beside her, barely touching her hand, reciprocating a love she has allowed to fester for a century and more. 

She feels lightheaded, almost. It can’t be real. She opens her eyes with a snap, finally looking up to face the real Link and not just his reflection.

He looks up, too. Zelda holds the rest of his hand, resting her palm atop his knuckles. Their fingers slowly move. She can’t look away. 

“Do you mean that?” she says tentatively. She can’t be so sure. 

“More than anything,” he replies back effortlessly, easier than ever. 

Zelda smiles widely. How could she have ever doubted him? She has been sure of him for so, so long.

She moves closer to him, cupping a hand on the side of his cheek. Link inches closer, too, tearing apart any distance between them, barriers Zelda had only ever dreamt of tearing down before.

But now she can without hesitation.

So she does. The barriers fall, crumbling any distance their cruel destiny built between them. Zelda kisses him gently at first, but once she feels him kissing back, all hesitation between them both disappears. It is her first kiss, so it’s nothing stunning or entirely beautiful. They have both never had a chance to sit down and live like they should have. Fate and destiny always kept them running; they didn’t have time for romance or kissing or silly little things.

But it does not matter what was. They are here now, they are alive, and most of all, they are all of that together.

Zelda feels the flowers brush up against her legs. She feels Link’s lips against her own, moving beautifully. She feels the sun rising, pink and yellow against her body. She hears the water of the lake of lovers before her.

This is the new future she is forging.

She could not be happier.

* * *

Time is ever flowing like the constant rivers that thread through the land. It moves on, and life moves alongside it, changing and morphing into brand new things. 

The house is theirs. Zelda brings home a large palette of paint from the local dye shop one day and suggests they paint on these empty, boring walls. She dusts off countertops, Link buys new cooking utensils to hang up on the walls near the stove, and they both slowly add a collection of plants to rest on each windowsill. They all grow beautifully, tendrils of green vines weaving upwards along the glass, giving them just enough space to look outside and see the rest of the village, the people, the clear sky. 

Zelda isn’t sure how much time passes since they first came clean with each other—it doesn’t really matter. She wakes up each day beside him, limbs entangled, only Link’s long hair getting in their faces, and greets him with a soft kiss. Their mornings start softly like that. She loses track of time, but that’s alright. Days slip away, but that is okay. So long as those days are ones like this and not ones plagued by heartache. 

There is paint on her forearms and her elbows, splashes of all kinds of colors staining her skin. Zelda stares down at the bucket of water they have sitting outside. She plunges her arms deep into the cold water. Using her fingernails, she scrubs away the dried paint sticking to her body. Flakes of rainbow colors fall into the water, dissolving almost instantly in it.

When she has had enough of attempting to scrape away the paint strokes, she turns her gaze eastward to stare out at the crumbled and grayed castle in the distance.

Something washes over her. Zelda narrows her eyes at the great structure she once called home and walks closer to the edge of the cliff. She can’t see much of it from here, but it’s enough to make her remember.

She envisions how it used to look—bright gray stone, shining blue rooftops, proudly swaying red flags embedded with symbols of Hyrule. She remembers it in all the glory it used to have, how citizens in towns she visited always said they could look upon the grandeur of it all and feel safe under its gaze. 

How did the people of Hyrule see it now? How did they feel when they looked at a once great beacon of Hyrule and only saw destruction?

Her people have gone far too long without a glimmer of hope. They have always survived on fear of the Calamity, fear of not being able to stop it. 

Zelda thinks about it. Her eyebrows scrunch deeply, and water drips from her fingertips from her still damp hands. The wind feels colder against the wetter parts of her skin, almost like a layer of snow. 

She thinks about it, the sun falls closer to the horizon, and she comes to a decision.

The moment she comes to this conclusion, Link greets her from behind with a small wave and a holler. Zelda whips her head around, smiling brightly as he walks up to her side. 

“I just finished the grass part of the little mural we’re doing. Oh, by the way, the flowers you painted are so good.” Link slinks an arm around her waist. Zelda raises her own arm to wrap around his, and she hugs him closer, pressing her cheek against his. 

“Thank you,” she says. “Did you notice what they were?”

”Silent Princesses—of course.” Link smiles against her cheek. “Your favorite.”

Zelda closes her eyes, allows the wind to balm her skin. “Right. I think our mural will turn out beautiful.”

”Duh. If we make it, it’s gonna look amazing.”

”Don’t be too confident—you’ll be disappointed in the end.”

”Doubtful.”

Zelda laughs, warmth bubbling in her throat. “You know, I was thinking, Link.”

”Oh?”

She redirects her gaze to the crumbled castle far in the distance. It stares sadly back at them, utterly defeated after sitting there idly for years. “We should rebuild the castle.”

Link chokes on his own saliva, it seems, and sputters with his next words. “That’s—that’s not exactly the easiest thing to do, Zelda.”

”It’s not,” she replies, “but it’s about time Hyrule’s princess—or queen, should I say—begins to rebuild the kingdom she left behind.”

”Hmm, I wouldn’t say that.”

Zelda stares at him quizzically. “Huh?”

”You didn’t leave it behind,” Link says. “You protected it all this time.”

Her scrunched eyebrows loosen up, slowly rising above her eyes. Zelda had always tried to think of it that way, and she has heard him reiterate that point a thousand times before this. 

But for the first time, it’s easy to believe him fully.

”I suppose I did,” she mumbles, staring back at the castle.

Already, she can envision what it will look like in the near future. Maybe not an exact replica of what it used to be, but that made sense. Nothing could ever be replaced exactly how it was.

Things were rebuilt newly; everything was reborn.

* * *

Tomorrow is the day they travel to Hyrule Castle to begin its new life. All they can do for now is inspect the place, see if anything precious still lies unharmed in its ruins. From there, they will find a way to rebuild it. Zelda knows the process will be long and arduous, but it will definitely be worth it in the end. To see Hyrule Castle return in all its new glory... She cannot wait. 

Zelda stares coldly up at the ceiling, her gaze almost burning holes into the wood. She’s restless, and sleep cannot find her. She wants the night to end already so they can begin their journey to the castle. Excitement thrums in her veins and it will not let her settle. 

After what seemed like years of staring at the boring wooden ceiling, Link makes his way upstairs. He had been cleaning Epona’s stable for her, promptly washing up afterwards. He yawns dramatically into his hand before plopping on top of the bed. More specifically, on top of Zelda.

She grunts when his body falls against hers. “Hello to you too.”

Link mumbles something incoherent into her shirt and closes his eyes. He inhales a deep sigh, exhaling shortly after. 

Zelda reaches her hand up to card her fingers through his hair. It’s soft, freshly washed with lemon-scented shampoo he had bought a few days ago. The scent is sweet and fills her nostrils. Zelda hums sleepily. Sleep is coming to her at last, it seems. 

Link moves his body so that his face is now nestled in the crook of her neck. He presses his lips against the side of her neck, kissing there gently. She sighs into the touch. Sleep is approaching.

Then, because maybe he gets some sick enjoyment out of tormenting her, he blows a raspberry against her neck. Zelda instinctively screams out, shoving his face away. Laughter gurgles in her stomach.

”What was that for?!” she exclaims. 

Link presses a finger against her lips, his body shaking as he laughs against her. “Thought it’d be funny.”

Zelda narrows her eyes and wipes the spit off her neck. “You’re disgusting.”

”Tell me about it.” Link lays close to her neck again, this time keeping his lips away from her skin. He closes his eyes and exhales a puff of warm air against her collarbone. 

Begrudgingly sighing, Zelda moves her hand back to his hair, moving her fingers through it languidly. She is definitely more awake now, but the warmth of him and the lemony scent start to lull her back into slumber. She closes her eyes, hoping it will catch her by surprise. 

“You excited?” Link asks sleepily. 

She supposes she’ll reply, despite her new tiredness. She likes talking to him, likes hearing his voice in every word. “I am. I have felt useless for so long... I can’t wait to finally help my kingdom.”

”You were never useless,” Link says. “You protected it this whole time. Between us, I’m the useless one.”

Zelda stops moving her fingers through his hair. “Don’t say that,” she groans. “You saved this kingdom.”

”...But you protected it. If you hadn’t, what would be left for me to save?”

Zelda opens her eyes. They’re now entirely bleary, but she can see enough of him. His eyes are still closed, but he remains conscious, just like herself. 

“Well,” she starts, closing them again, “then in that regard, neither of us are useless. We both played a part.”

”...Yeah.”

”And now we’re going to rebuild it.”

He smiles against her bones. “A new future for everyone. Especially us.”

Zelda wraps both her arms around him quickly. He’s warm, he’s real, and he’s right here.

”Right. Especially us,” she mumbles, but he is long asleep by now.

They had spent more than a lifetime reaching for each other. And now, he is everything, and so is she. They are everything, and they are together, above all else. She smiles as his hair brushes against her chin.

When she thinks about it, it’s like they had known each other all this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @k8tys i'm gonna start posting there more often
> 
> thanks for reading <3


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